Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from University of Toronto | http://www. archive.org/details/n5audubonmagazin01 audu BELLE L AUDUBON MAGAZINE My PUBLISHED IN THE INTERESTS OF ieee ee DUBON SOCIE FY FOR THE PROGEBETION OF BIRDS. VOLUME. [es FEBRUARY, 1887, TO JANUARY, 1888. NEW YORK: FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY. Vee ° 2 y r ’ Copyrighted, 1587. Forrest AND STREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY. GON TENT SeOrF VORUNEE: I. ILLUSTRATIONS OF BIRDS. PAGE BAU TIMOREORTOHE MAND MINES Tcmeievpatretarcrs7eiceretolers = =) s!e\s erahetchaterecsisr-opay sia) siisidicr A clel Vote, & sfeierotey efoneie emetetnee 2 (Groviar Nts «6 eacoccondu Goons Og OO do GE OO COD ne REESE ooo nn ete ROSS ene ease mannan inc oar oS 26 (China BR. o5enop Ab oD ONO DOODD ES DODO E | OSI Ratio ers ee ae ae meee aa eee An a 50 Eman? Siihity 4 .oadtea Op ao Un Ope SOG 0 <> OC aes 4.5 > Se cic Se Spc e een tonto o/Dii 56 74 SCiBAT ENV INGE) WWOORPDIOSR concbooesomo oon omagoadam 6 c0co Sb ooDndneo dr doeouGoMdodocep NE 98 FES THR IGIOMMVCAURETIONGeroscnin enh cys arey sveravel tsi. ores se croncrouesamencne Sec ray aya) Sitid salah Syanedanetaceyera ere avatar aye acs selena: ecehsswhelateanaliehahe 122 Wile OPENS Baie tong tn RO EEnIOte Groen FICC eo + Choe ae eee eatin Cr odes ieee EAP RIS on wee 246) SORTED) EVANDER on ocd sobano b.ob.00'0 1c + 00.6 CORRE ean © DOA a Dea onblioniaminc cman 4 ccna I7I TERROTWAN MERAGHIDS. ca gonads concab os an oopoe 1 TUS CR MUDD Bre on Oo ee DEG oO UDUDOS ho Sor oan EG AocoL 195 INTC NAR ce gadanse acacdcedog oon buoeers ob oped aEee ou S EO doucopbrcussoopEdeaueDDuDpeT 219 (Shite Shyu ooteaovgscescsccccgoCeRBonct 6 ROD MED SoODmbae tilde antec Sono RSbnne Aste SAS dacsr 242 BRAY OLS HAUNMIVIEA GG DLE etarsrey torte tteretetererstciayeterclclstevcyic(e/escrs o"speicisisic axosehetensiencresalesenetoleveleralesatare leis ietomearcmetttonsys 268 EERO BAIN OOD ate seleicinte aisle ciecietercisisielereiaisicie eisreiese es as nig leVe, sisi efevere Syeicra wfetershe/eveiave lol lear avo la ole ele vetolexere 270 JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. v1 Ge NUAEVIRORSCAU DU BO Now ic) steheveleiehetettn stole) «\st-1aiefefesals, 1s aiarsj=istmsieve"afelojchautiars By 27), SL 75s CON Ley a4 ye ley CARs OR O Kin) OHNGM PANIES MAUD TBO Nate etoralofoieleteisis «/-talnet« oF iajaieielerstolslageiate) atalolsialeQote(otaioyeisieteyefarele 197, 219 EN GUNES MO Ker AUDUBONS! GIHE stores crisis! sieve sis chefeiere~ <1 8 iote s-e)seieleitienensie ese Pa epsieterals eile ester eCroere.t 243 JHORTRALT Oh LNG OURON, obs 00500 pHa Kooba cou sgetnE o006 unmocc Conoune panos modadcQdnooDoOO 266 PACD CAB CEN TONS Kio CELE Sens) =| ciohejerscoisiw sfovere.ors ci slei siviere!s +, cieysnc sim sis ereiehsy sis als ole fase le steer nya'ehcinsetoin a wlntolele 00 267 DESCRIPTIVE ORNITHOLOGY out TORS ORIG oooc0bn00adpopoaDABbodoons deusoboGoRoceouS eyetetossisinjel= o(eselniaiate nie !njoisrsie\s\efsielat= 6 ROS a Fee se MPN UT Gone eto ats =i Pfal ci ciel ohne o\s 0) (sie"s 0) 61s sjpte sia 2i5,0/o1a ie sisree einiale wis eieinieisianbid.d o[sieiere vielnanie avaere 29 eA ae St RDP IPT RTS TPE aici abs ia fale Sraicin o:« lnnavete ross. Stotersoalebalereveverotel selereyele eid ele auanererm) oevereuhe 53 CHIMNEY SWIFT. o005 ccc SON Sob CUO GUO CONGO GUCO Goth Or Ar ORO Bae ere CM REE RT 3.0 c 77 (GOUDEN NV IIN GEO WOODPECRRMN Yar are sre sicieie s) nistece:s.c sien cleieielate:cccYoselers areTelstoiers a's ojossvejate wi elaru/sia’ eek IOI IAGRES MUON hoe coon do odno og OUO COC UGE DC HESEICA DO Seca Daa aE eam eneeenec nn yoo 125 WOOD HRUSHermm eRe epi iicraitrciieteie sissies <.cisis Se sre)SS isle. ata eevee wa ds nel Se.sleeela nemepeS 149 SPORTED 10 AND PIERRE teptelrate erie lel clel EMME: atl, <. > cis eleyeisidieie s wjclaic.cie sisieis os Sc cies ios Memes Sera 173 ISROWIN) “DLEERWASELER cr ateyetetreyetenaa fered Toe ROEM EPRI Ts 's, 2ra's < cists steyersisisi cre Siaidease here sniore:$ Masel dvaretaberavane ORE 197 INSEAD Ae Bite per ig adSe cc cm aodab0 do.0~. +n - 5 (ED ORD RCE aoe eae ae EAC eeecon 2518 355 221 ROTATES WAL L-OWosraiaicioetovere sere cite Tere eRe REMI sis icieae oles sd drei a ne x as Seis sw Heaters Ad aed canes 246 iv Contents. BIRD STORIES. , Pace, A Birp AMONG Birps. SHO OO ODDODOROAS EDS oor: cgtpoes coe8 a4 4 PRR Oct ee 166 GO yO OMe 10 ISGGERS (OF HE MEEXAS (GOAST. scat vec: oie oS = - =n eee Auth Hoa aoe atiein SAS Aenea 34 CHE) TERNS ‘OM IMUSKEGED [ISLAND % io 0-2 ain) rae s > > 0 (eke te See eee ee oe 48 AN BLUETAMIS | OROLL. ADVENTURE. «\2\0:5:cis/eioie alter > << Se Sele one eee 4 44 A. O. U. CoMMITTEE ON BirpD PROTECTION...... 2. SERREGE ROU e oben Ia5Ooccs vaddppe eto ae 44, 55 LEE ESULPHUR-CRESTED (COCKATOO). .c- (a\-cteteireeteees- > + «= \-laree < oi- =). Eee een eer eee aS TD WO UGNDIAN IBIRD) STORIES... or <\s\eloiess inlets RMR» Wc, 69 IROBINS) NORD ANDES OUMEe rfc es)
  • aie «l= alepsTRMRMESENE De Seer nye eel steed = ee eee ee a 139 AUR) (GIRS I OMe oroareray oe eboyetet sks 1 te MME = 6 os 3 eer Sree Tape ez SPARROWS AND) ROBINS EAT CHE) AWE oy ecpapneenemete nee «oils bela! <2 > [COU IDO OM ASE AOOOMnMOGOORbOOs Gabe sy o6- «259 ATECABOUL) SOME (CANARY. BIRDS sex. oncteieicte tet teememeterey «je c otevsre tate tela) avers” 2) (oc ee Aono it) THE DRADE WIN (BIRD WSKINS 2s wyeiecr oye) ilies), scepelevay ties (ete keeeeteene 12 61-5 ss) 5 pata 35 axe) Our SMITH COLLEGE AUDUBON SOCIETY...... ets ite ) Contents. Vv Pace Henini scenes SHON, BEADHER. MILUINERY 5.0. /cipanele < sicisereees ete Wile 2 ace 8'< « kccihae a(ete ofsie ve Ee RR 189 PRERTEM ES Ce NPPEAL) TO) WOUNG AMERICA (2 oo <5 o/c edtesiq si teteie fc re ene oe os ie vin ain cursapelemeale 230 2 WD ES. - - aycdk(es do nS Gn Soe eR DD DU RCRBHEDOSE: “BEBE! ¢ cabane Saosocn dacs aoe enn Ee SA heel 236 PMRNMCREE ROR MTHS PD NGLISH, SPARROW soc, << cfc es eis sieciacaie cb aa eeamitcis ca sn views ecco eee neaes 254 MEEISED a ONUMENT: TO) AUDUBON: .- © 5 omlominisis oe AO eee ens aie slew esies Gade eRe nee 260 PEP LUENURED PO OREARS IME WARD saiciiciclsibeeiters ») « Societies cra PE IR SICH YO RISE slajave: «fone eet 282 NC OGRONE IRON LSSS certs creepers + *iclect nce seals elcie airone eae slatakk ane eco 283 Ln TRISTE SEY pe Boaropcaphq6.0a66 DED ae USoN tt 6 SEER OAR eSEH AEM Op oe bernonscnsbecenanasees 285 SSRRGGIGES ORM EUAWIKGHANDE OME Setetcyaietetsle/oleleisiwicis's ©, + «= sistafel sja1=/2)2)< Sieleisie,e 2c 4 os ele gs vs eeieemibece ne 57 IBTRDS) ASP PROPRGATORGIORME RUIN UREES c.f. cc5 +)<:0'0 115 :c1ajsic/apepsieiste sieve aig dieo 2 «sooo wd ee eee 67 BARRE SO by CATR 0G OMe NI eV ee [eee ow oao aa jaere) cs =<. v,2 5 foi Syelece} sisters aa) s'~i syays, bye love's siclclec ois Nee a eae 87 10}e) IMG Latin, Dis OWS cdpedossee46p bec one ReneeeDo dso a 5 Sane sa SaRay See BeAMeeE Agu cconc 5 - 93 iin ANON GmOLIES DAE ANCE OL IGIREs 12) soyslorjatersie, + soe. 2 to Meets: sieis eicie'di ee ace oa ov asics cee 106 DUDS Os. INSITE ss oSe63055 pond pecpaigd 6 oc pene oo Scie eee ee ener Brey LOS [GON AGE (ORATION NE Ss pee op ace ote RoC 070 eee coasts oe Sneon eo aEAneeonee == aHoae 211, 284 Lise, IRNOS, TEED s Sopgidod edge ama eneoBbD.040 0.9 (SRS sea ARO GORE ESeRA CUBE Geer oocsc 235 TRS, WAS: TEIN CBSSSSE ese cortoatcose ceo vcd Dap ano ene BE qOeee coms Te MEERA nea asa mer se i7/ PES IVADENS OO Wal €) Ke VASYSES CSET OLD er aetebeneestateral iesieiatere ic cote elacs,/-/) 2am wdicve es sratn: apo ale mich sie els aievelei oo oeveweae 36 GHARTEV:S WONDERFUL JOURNEYS. (Illustrated)... 2... 2.0.0.2 eens cesses 40, 63, 82, 160, 208 NOTEGTe Titi, TROT TOS BI Aiog eruaness 3.5 Oly CRD IS OG Oe eae eee aaa en nen aera Segment ea 59 ESSE? JS A Ci@ ORAS Bbooohr = 6666 DOD ROSS SOO eee ere 61, 85, 103, 151, 185, 204, 227, 277 Suita JJaxtie, (CNTSGEGS) Besos 36 pesooegdce” oo Gone ae on oee saaaeobeaas SoBoRasGrnG -Anecoae go LAS STIS INGO? IRIOMIR. 5 Saglbpea+o coc SOUS SUE ED 50S ce eEE BEDS aE aPescealnSaereEanernereosaacas 113 SMa O MA CoH ONG AGI OLIN ALIN eyeyelctaecie/eisss i; 2s, ciate iore.s ¥ dG. See be sie Sie Saya rere nee ddr oars orale toes 232 ERINGESSMRUBN—tROAMS, (IMltstrated) s2 5 jcccrs sce cic. oS ese oieerieiese edie eislvie.e vs cise cease dew cs 249 DOS? See, DIS LOO) TS or eee ess 6 eee ae ee 9 “UNIT. STEDOIRNTS ROLLS og ns de Sho oct HORI SOCEO b CIIILCIS eG ERS TERRES Ren Par oe 18 “ELAT TS. AC LAIR GpoGnee go 0rs See ese OBEsS Cit hic Senet Cre at ae reser a 31 “OL NSEIT GE SIREROTOS SO GGReE oncee SAU See pea Geeks eee ae nea 69 ube TST TOMS. oo odco.dbbhee o0edo 5 hog RE OGD S Se Act MES Seater ee ese eae a 93 NBIMORAUEIGNORY MUSEUM RECEPTION, « . <....c0< oa a = ' g TN EO Audubon, Life of, 3, 27, 51, 75, 99, I2I, 147, 172. Character of, 197, 217. Incidents of Life, 243. Portrait of, 266. Audubonian Sketches, 267. Audubon Magazine, 5. Note Book, 19, 43, 68, 92, 116, 139, 164, 189, 212, 236, 260, 284. Society, List of Vice-Presidents, 20. Society, Smith College, 175. Badge, 116, 139, 189. Proposed Monument to, 260. A Bird Among Birds, Io, A Bluejay’s Droll Adventure, 44. A Dishumanizing Amusement, 261. A Little Girl’s Owl, 139. All about some Canary Birds, 285. All Night on a Mountain, 232. A Man, a Sparrow, and a Surprise, 212. A Memory of My Boyhood, 36. An Earnest Appeal to Young America, 230. Annie’s New Home, 113. A. O. U. Committee on Bird Protection, 45, 55. A Review, 15. As Bad as English Sparrows, 212. A Talking Crow, 259. “Audubon,” The, for 1888. Audubon Workers, Hints to, 108, 132, 155, 181, 200, 224, 256, 271. Auk, The Great, 29. A Word for the English Sparrow, 254. Badge, An Audubon, 116, 139, T89. Balance of Life, Maintaining the, 106, Baltimore Oriole, 6. Bird Among Birds, A, 10. Bird Helpers, 285. Bird Law, New York, 21. Bird Nomenclature, Local, 164. Bird Skins, Trade in, 159. Birds as Fertilizers, 163. Birds as Propagators of Fruit Trees, 67. Birds, Effects of Eclipse on, 212. Birds, Odd Antics of, 69. Birds, Smashed, 140. Bluejay’s Droll Adventure, A, 44. Brown Thrasher, 197. Buffalo Branch Society, Organization of, 43. Byram and Ghopal, 61, 85, 103, 151, 185, 204, 227. O77 277+ Canary Birds, All about some, 280. Cedar Bird, The, 53. Character of John James Audubon, 197. Charley’s Wonderful Journeys (illustrated), 40, 63, 82, 160, 208. Chimney Swift, The, 77. Cliff Swallow, The, 246. Cockatoo, Sulphur-Crested, 45. Conditions of Membership, 43. Coot, European (illustration), 270. Cranks, 236. Crow, A Talking, 259. Crow, Did you Ever Catch a — by the Tail? 66. Did you Ever Catch a Crow by the Tail ? 66. Dishumanizing Amusement, A, 261, Do Not Kill the Owls, 93. Earnest Appeal to Young America, 230. Earth Builders, 87. Economic Ornithology, 211, 284. Effect of the Eclipse on Birds, 212. Eggers of the Texas Coast, 34. English Press on Feather Millinery, 189. English Sparrow, A Word for the, 254. European Coot, 270. European Magpie, 268. Feather Millinery, English Press on, 189. Fight Between Snake and Bird, 164. Ps Five Hundred Dollars Reward, 282. Florida, Slaughter in, 139. Florida, Wholesale Destruction of Birds in, 178. Garden Bird, 92. Golden-Winged Woodpecker, 101. Great Auk, 29. Hattie’s New Hat, 61. Index. ; Hints to Audubon Workers, 108, 132, 155, I81, 200, Review, A, 15. 224, 256, 271. Rice Bird, The, 235. Robins North and South, g2. Incidents of Audubon’s Life, 243. Sek. Indian Bird Stories, Two, 45- Sailor Jack (illustrated), go. In the Everglades, 117. Services of Hawks and Owls, 57. , Skunks and Potato Bugs, 214. Jim, 136. Slaughter in Florida, 139. Little Tom, 93. Smashed Birds, 140. Lost and Found, 116. Smith College Audubon Society, 175. ; Song Birds in Europe and America, 127. Magpie, European (illustration), 268. Sparrows and Robins at the Bath, 212. Maintaining the Balance of Life, 106. Spotted Sandpiper, The, 173. Man the Destroyer, 9. Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo, 45. Manual of North American Birds, 236. Study of Natural History in Schools, 260. Membership Conditions, 43. Subscribe to the ‘‘Audubon,” or. Membership Returns, 19, 43, 68, 92, 116, 139, 164, 189, 212, 236, 260, 284. Talking Crow, 259. Migratory Notes, 236. Texas Coast, Eggers of the, 34. Mountain, All Night ona, 232. The Oriole’s Prayer, 42. Muskeget Island, The Terns of, 43. The Rice Bird, 235. My Pet Rats, 93. The Selborne Society, 18. The Terns of Muskeget Island, 43. The Trade in Bird Skins, 159. The Two Princesses, 17. They Knew their Friend, 69. Natural History Museum Reception, 117. New York Bird Law, 21. Nighthawk, 221. Organization of the Buffalo Branch, 43. Two Indian Bird Stories, 45. Oriole’s Prayer, The, 42. ae : Owl, A Little Girl's, 139. NEES 3 BNE ae What the Robin Saw, 59. Portrait of Audubon, 266. Wholesale Destruction of Birds in Florida, 178. Prairie Owls and Scorpions, 68. Winscombe Sketches, 69. Princess Ruby-Throat (illustrated), 249. Woman’s Heartlessness, 13. Proposed Monument to Audubon, 260. Woodpecker, Golden-Winged, ror. Purple Martin, 125. Wood Thrush, The, 149. WOODPECKER. GOLDEN-WINGED s auratus (LINN.) ) Colapte ( THE AupuBoN MAGAZINE. WiOL.. 1. JOHN Wis T was in October, 1820, that Audubon started from Cincinnati with an expedi- tion which had been sent out to make a survey of the Mississippi River. He was furnished with letters of recommendation from General Harrison and Henry Clay, and had in mind a long excursion through the Southern States, which was to include Mississippi, Alabama, Florida and Arkansas. Captain Cumming was at the head of the surveying party. The journey from Cincin- nati to the mouth of the Ohio was made ina flat boat and occupied fourteen days. Arriving at Natchez, Audubon made this town his headquarters for a time, and re- ceived much kindness there. Mr. Berthoud, a relative, resided here, and did much to make his stay pleasant. Natchez seems to have delighted the naturalist, not less on account of its beautiful environs and the abundance of its bird life, than by its size, it having then 3,000 inhabitants. Although his surroundings were in many respects pleasant, he was greatly troubled by the lack of funds, for he had been un- able to collect money which was due him at Cincinnati, and was really penniless. An incident which occurred here shows how reduced were his fortunes. It happened that his shoes, and those of one of his com- panions, were worn out, and neither of the two had money enough to purchase a new pair, Audubon stopped ata shoemaker’s and JUNE, 1887. JAMES No. 5. AUDUBON. stated the case, informing him that they were without money, but offering to sketch por- traits of the shoemaker and his wife in return for two pair of boots. The offer was ac- cepted, and in a short time the portraits were finished, and the travelers were furnished with new foot gear. Some time in December, 1820, the natu- ralist left Natchez for New Orleans in a keel boat with Mr. Berthoud, in tow of a steamer. Here, by an unlucky accident, a portfolio of his precious drawings was left behind, and its loss caused much anxiety, but the prompt dispatch of letters to Natchez resulted in its recovery, and on his arrival at New Orleans he found the portfolio awaiting him there. The voyage down the Mississippi was full of charms for the naturalist, and he writes of it in most enthusiastic terms. Upon reaching New Orleans he at once set out to find work, but at first without success. At length, however, he was for- tunate enough to obtain an order for a por- trait from a well-known citizen of New Orleans, and this proving a good likeness he received a number of orders, which at once put him in funds, and enabled him to give some time to his favorite pursuits. He obtained a number of new birds here. In March he learned of the conclusion of the treaty between Spain and the United States, by which a considerable portion of the Southwest was ceded to the latter 100 nation, and hearing that an expedition was to leave Natchitoches next year to survey the boundary line, he determined to try to obtain permission to accompany it as nat- uralist and draughtsman. He _ therefore wrote to Mr. Monroe, who was then Presi- dent, asking for this appointment, but received no reply. Audubon remained in New Orleans until June of 1821, and his life there was one of ups and downs. Sometimes he was_ penniless, and at others had enough for his wants. He started to return to his family in Ken- tucky on the 16th of June, but while on his way up the river he accepted the posi- tion of instructor in drawing to the daugh- ters of a Mr. Perrie, who owned a planta- tion at Bayou Sara, in Louisiana. Here his duties were very light, and a consider- able portion of his time was occupied in roaming the woods looking out for new birds. The time passed pleasantly. Just about a year after his departure from Cin- cinnati, he left Bayou Sara for New Or- leans. Here he rented a house and sent to Kentucky for his family. In an entry in his journal October 25, he gives a state- ment of what he has accomplished during the year. Hesays: “Since I left Cincin- nati, October 12, 1820, I have finished sixty-two drawings of birds and _ plants, three quadrupeds, two snakes, fifty por- traits of all sorts, and have subsisted by my humble talents, not having a dollar when I started. I sent a draft to my wife, and began life in New Orleans with forty- two dollars, health, and much anxiety to pursue my plan of collecting all the birds of America.” In December Mrs. Audubon and her children reached New Orleans, and the re- union of the family after fourteen months of separation was a great delight to all of them. But now once more money troubles began to oppress the naturalist, and before long his affairs became so desperate that Mrs, Audubon took pupils to help matters John Fames Audubon. along. In March her husband determined to return to Natchez, where he believed his prospects for obtaining work would be bet- ter. Hereached this city March 24, 1822, and after some discouragements and de- lays, obtained an appointment as drawing master in a so called college at Washing- ton, nine miles from Natchez. He sent for his sons and put them to school here. But although he had work, he was dissatis- fied, for his employment left him little time to work at his birds. On the whole, his time at Natchez was so far well spent that he was earning some money, and after a while Mrs. Audubon joined him there, and for a short time was governess in a clergyman’s fam- ily; but at length Audubon’s desire to pro- ceed with his work could no longer be restrained, and his wife’s faith in him in- duced her to propose that she should remain in Mississippi as governess in the Percy family at Bayou Sara, while her hus- band should go to Europe and perfect him- self in painting in oil colors. This course was finally determined on, and in October, 1823, Audubon left New Orleans for Ken- tucky, taking with him his son Victor, a boy not yet fourteen years old. This journey was notable as terminating in a walk of about two hundred and fifty miles, made, not over roads, but through forests, canebrakes and along stony river beds, and was accomplished in ten days. From the village of Trinity, where, on ac- count of low water, the steamboat was forced to stop, four of the passengers started to walk to Louisville; but before the journey had been completed Audubon and his young son had left their companions far behind, and were the first to reach Louisville. Here Audubon succeeded in getting his son into the counting house of a friend, and then en- gaged to paint the interior of a steamboat. That autumn and the winter of 1823-4 was spent in Kentucky painting to accumulate funds for his travels, and in April, 1824, Audubon found himself in Philadelphia, THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER. HIS is a bird which has many titles. Most of our common birds have different English names in different parts ‘of the country, but perhaps none have as great a variety as this species. Here is a list of thirty-six which was recently sent to the Natural History department of the Forest and Stream, by Mr. W. W. Colburn, of Springfield, Massachusetts : 1. Clape. zee GKESCEME MITC) .toyaahe ehckelotelieleteyetelons.#/*\et West. Qs (CAGED 5 Scosdn 4d goo ocooneUeOUOTOnAS Maine. 4. English Woodpecker............ Long Island. Gi Istblote ocosecagoenureceocoupueaG Cape Cod. oy IMME Mer. sodecddaeapovsdnaondeeD In general use 7. ¥rench Woodpecker......... New Hampshire. 3 IsBigy Mis RS io noenioe co ocooo New Hampshire. Gj, ANGE os eagampnsansogcounso Connecticut. Toy, label oonaaepocoodcoauUG In general use. fi. Ialpaee@)Gl So psooeecnocueuogs In general use. i) Ibis Cocgcoousteponrecccan In general use. WRy IMTOO 5 Se onpboecosne coe panoooconE Canada. cul, (Gall S\yweelPteotesqoecopbocoboac Pennsylvania. mG. OMGHINCSS 6 Keconeebeeeo cos SU eDOOnae Maine. 16. Partridge Woodpecker......... New England. 17. Pigeon Woodpecker........... New England. RO EIGWe-DOIS-JAUNE Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Curacoa Kid Button Boots 3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat, Foxed Kid- Yop, Waukenphast Button Boots..... ............-. 3-00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Calf, Foxed Kid- ace Wau- kenphast Button Boots..................... - 3-00 These Shoes are especially designed to take the place of the highest grade custom work of the finest material and finish, and the best workmanship that can be produced. I do not hesitate to warrant them equal to any custom made that are sold from $6 to $7 per pair, and at almost half the price. They are made in every variety, shape and form, and it makes no diffe:ence what the preference may be, I can guarantee a per- fect fit and satisfaction in every instance. CANVAS SHOES. My stock of Canvas Shoes of every description for Ladies, Misses and Children is now complete, such as Lawn Tennis, Bicycle, Yachting, and for all outdoor sporting purposes, at astonishingly low prices. I have tireless shoes for walkers, wires ee slippers for dan- noes for the comfort- ; in fact every kind of foot covering for Men, Women and Children, and at prices much lower than the same quality and make of goods are sold for elsewhere. People out of town should send for Illustrated Catalogue, which is mailed free on application, A. J. CAMMEYER, Sixth Avenue & Twelfth Street. cers, dressy shoes for promenaders, low loving ; AUDUBON MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. THE SCHOOL VOR Soir: Let the school of home be a good one. Let the reading at home be such as to quicken the mind for better reading still; for the school at home is progressive. The baby is to be read to. What shall mother and sister and father and brother read to the baby? BaByLANb. Babyland rhymes and jingles; great big letters and little thoughts and words out of BanyLAND. Pictures so easy to understand that baby quickly learns the meaning of light and shade, of distance, of tree, of cloud. The grass is green; the sky is blue; the flowers—are they red or yellow? ‘That depends on mother’s house- plants. Baby sees in the picture what she sees in the home and out of the window. BABYLAND, mother’s monthly picture- and-jingle primer for baby’s diversion, and baby’s mother-help. Babies are near enough alike. LAND fits them all; 50 cents a year. to D. Lothrop Company, Boston. One Bapsy- Send What, when baby begins to read for her- self? Why erself and not Azmself? Turn about is fair play—If man means man and woman too, why shouldn't little girls in- clude the boys? Our Lirrte Men and WoMEN is an- other monthly made to go on with. Basny- LAND forms the reading habit. Think of a baby with the reading habit! After a little she picks up the letters and wants to know what they mean. The jingles are jingles still; but the tales that lie below the jingles begin to ask questions. What do Jack and Jill go up the hill after water for? Isn’t the water down hill? Baby is outgrowing BABYLAND. Our LittLE Men AND WoMEN comes next. No more nonsense. ‘There is fun enough in sense. The world is full of in- teresting things; and, if they come to a growing child not in discouraging tangles but an easy one at a time, there is fun enough in getting hold of them. That is the way to grow. Our LirrLeE MEN AND WomeEN helps such growth as that. Begin- nings of things made easy by words and pictures; not too easy. The reading habit has got to another stage. You may send a dollar to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, for such a school as that for one year. Then comes Tur Pansy with stories of child-life, tales of travel at home and abroad, adventure, history, old and new religion at home and over the seas, and roundabout tales on the International Sun- day School Lesson. Pansy the editor; THe PANsy the maga- There are thousands and thousands of children and children of larger growth all over the country who know about Pansy the writer, and ‘THE Pansy the magazine. There are thousands and thousands more who will be glad to know. Send to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, a dollar a year for THe PANsy. zine. The reading habit is now pretty well es- tablished; not only the reading habit, but liking for useful reading; and useful read- ing leads to learning. Now comes WipE AWAKE, vigorous, hearty, not to say heavy. No, it isn’t heavy, though full as it can be of practical help along the road to sober manhood and womanhood. Full as it can be? There is need of play as well as of work; and WipDE Awake has its mixture of work and rest and play. The work is all toward self-im- provement; so is the rest; and so is the play. Send D. Lothrop Company, Boston, $2.40 a year for WipE AWAKE. Specimen copies of all the Lothrop mag- azines for fifteen cents; any one for five— in postage stamps. = “~— © pe MARTIN. PURPLE THE (Progne subis (L.) ) Tue AupuBOoN MAGAZINE. Vou. I. JOHN UDUBON had now fairly started on the journey which was ultimately to lead him to the successful accomplishment of his great work; but the way before him was long and difficult, and his triumph came only after years of delay and disap- pointment. Nothing but his indomitable energy enabled him to conquer the obsta- cles and discouragements which at every step stood in his way. He reached Philadelphia April 5, 1824. Here he made the acquaintance of a num- ber of men who were his fast friends ever afterward. Chief among these were Sully, the painter; Prince Charles L. Bonaparte, the ornithologist; Le Sueur, the natural- ist; Dr. Harlan and Mr. Edward Harris. Here, too, he met his old friends Rosier and Joseph Mason. He at once began to look for an engraver who should reproduce on metal his drawings of birds, but was quite unsuccessful. In the meantime he supported himself by giving lessons in drawing. The Prince of Canino expressed his doubt about the possibility of properiy engraving the plates in this country, and recommended that the work should be done abroad. Unable to accomplish anything in Philadelphia, he went to New York, having with him letters of introduction to persons residing there, but his efforts to find an engraver were quite as unsuccessful as they had been in Philadelphia, and though he JULY, 1887. JAMES AUDUBON. received much kindness, and his drawings were everywhere admired, he soon became discouraged and started for Albany to pre- sent letters to De Witt C. Clinton and Dr. Beck. Both of these gentlemen were ab- sent, and as his funds were getting low, he determined to see Niagara, and then to re- turn South. His comments on the then villages of Rochester and Buffalo read curiously to-day. Of the former he says: “Five years ago there were but few build- ings here, and the population is now five thousand;” and of Buffalo: “This village was utterly destroyed by fire in the war of 1812, but has now about two hundred houses, a bank, and daily mail.” After a few days at Niagara Falls, Audu- bon sailed from Buffalo for Erie, Penn., and proceeded thence on foot to Mead- ville, Penn. Here his money gave out, and he took steps to replenish his purse by portrait painting, and with his usual success. Proceeding southward to Pitts- burgh, he spent a month there, collecting birds and making drawings, and toward the end of October started down the Ohio ina skiff. Rainy weather, however, soon put an end to this mode of traveling, and at Wheeling he sold his skiff and took passage in a keel boat for Cincinnati. Here he was obliged to borrow money to get to Louisville, and before long he determined to return to Bayou Sara, open a school, and 124 John Fames Audubon. defer the pursuit of his ornithological pro- ject until he had accumulated sufficient money to carry out his plans. It was late in November when he reached Mr. Percy’s plantation at Bayou Sara, and once more held in his arms his beloved wife. It was not long before he had established classes in dancing and fencing, which brought him a considerable income, which, with the savings of Mme. Audubon, enabled him to foresee a successful issue to his great ornithologi- cal work. In May, 1826, having left his wife and son at Bayou Sara, Audubon sailed for England on the ship Delos. The voyage, though interesting, as shown by the journal, was uneventful, and on the 2oth of July Audu- bon landed in Liverpool. On presenting some of his letters he was received with great cordiality, and was introduced to many eminent people, all of whom admired his work and seemed anxious to aid him. He exhibited his drawings at the Liverpool exhibition, and afterwards at the Royal Institution, and received about £100 as the result. From Liverpool he proceeded to Manchester, where his drawings were again placed on exhibition. On October 25 the naturalist left Man- chester for Edinburgh, where his stay was a succession of brilliant successes and his work met with instant appreciation. Here he almost at once made the acquaintance of literary and scientific men who were ina position to be of the greatest assistance to him. Such were Professor Jameson, Dr. Knox, Mr. Francis Jeffrey, Sir William Jar- dine, Sir Walter Scott, Professor Wilson (Christopher North), Lord Elgin, Mr. Selby, the ornithologist; the Earl of Morton, Dr. Brewster and many others. As elsewhere, his drawings attracted great attention in Edinburgh, and a committee from the Royal Institute of Edinburgh offered him the use of their rooms for the exhibition of his He soon received an offer from Mr. Lizars, an engraver, to publish the first drawings. number of his “Birds-of America,” with life- size figures, and the work was at once put in hand. Inthe meantime the exhibition of his drawings was bringing him in some money. His portrait was painted and placed on exhibition, Professor Wilson wrote an article about him and his work, for Black- wood’s Magazine, and the whole town was talking of him. The first proofs of the initial number of his work were ready late in November, and in December some of them had been colored and seem to have delighted him. All the while he was paint- ing with energy, and preparing papers on the habits of various birds. Toward the close of his stay in Edin- burgh, in March, 1827, Audubon issued his prospectus, and the courage and hopeful- ness of the man are well shown by the tone of this document. As his wife says: “He was in a strange country, with no friends but those he had made within a few months, and not ready money enough in hand to bring out the first number pro- posed, and yet he entered confidently on this undertaking, which was to cost over a hundred thousand dollars, and with no pledge of help, but on the other hand, dis- couragements on all sides, and from his best friends.” After leaving Edinburgh, Audubon vis- ited a number of manufacturing towns and secured a few subscribers at #200 each. At length he reached London, and here he was more successful. Here he met Mr. Havell, the engraver, who finally carried through his great work to its completion. In June, 1828, he received letters from Mr. Lizars, his Edinburgh engraver, intimating that there were difficulties in the way of completing the work then, and an arrange- ment was made with Mr. Havell for color- ing the plates in London. The work was now fairly under way, for subscriptions had been liberally taken in London, the King and the Duchess of Clarence being among the subscribers there. _— RT By VE UR Pe HE Purple Martin is the largest of the swallow tribe. He is also one of the most useful of this extremely serviceable group of birds. Not only does he destroy vast numbers of hurtful insects, but from his ready adaptability to changed con- ditions, and his willingness, if encouraged, to make his home on or near man’s dwel- lings, he becomes the guardian of the poultry yard. No hawk or owl or eagle is daring enough to approach a farmhouse where one or more pairs of this courageous and swift-winged species are rearing their broods. If a bird of prey, ignorant of the presence of these protectors, comes near to see what opportunity there may be to pick up one of the young chickens that are wandering about the door yard, the Martins discover him at once, and sally forth with angry twitterings, to give battle to the intruder. Their powerful wings bear them swiftly toward their enemy, who, too late, turns to fly. They easily overtake him, and dart down from above, buffeting him savagely. The intruder wastes no time in trying to give battle to his small but dreadful assailants, and with all the speed that he can command, hurries to the nearest shelter. When he reaches the woods or some thicket into which he plunges, the victorious Martins rise high in air, and side by side, calling to each other with notes of triumph and congratu- lation, wing their way back to the home which they have so boldly defended. But the Martin is not a quarrelsome fellow at all. He is just a sturdy, hard- working citizen of the bird world, who is determined to stand up for what he con- siders his own rights, and who is afraid of nothing that flies. Sometimes when he arrives from the south in April, he finds that the home in which he reared his brood last summer has been taken posses- MARTIN. sion of by a pair of bluebirds or perhaps by English sparrows. If this is the case, he prepares without loss of time to eject the usurpers, and he usually succeeds in doing this very easily. Then he pulls out and throws to the ground all the material that has been brought into the chamber by the previous occupants, and goes calmly ahead with his own housekeeping arrange- ments. It is rather an amusing spectacle to see a conquering Martin, perched in the entrance of his home, chattering threaten- ingly at a lot of sparrows, who sit about abusing him with all the strength of their small lungs, but quite powerless to do anything to help themselves. The Purple Martin arrives from his winter home, far to the south of the United States, early in February, and soon spreads over the whole of the country, reaching the falls of the Ohio, according to Audubon, about March 15, and New York about the middle of April. Before the settlement of this country, the Martins reared their young in holes in the trees, or in rocks, and even now, in wild regions, they make use of the holes excavated in trees by the woodpeckers. Often, however, the farmers, appreciating the services rendered by this useful bird, put up houses for it, and these are occu- pied by the same colony year after year. The birds dwell together in the utmost harmony, and seem never to quarrel among themselves. Their nests are prepared soon after their arrival and are simple affairs of dried grass, just enough to keep the four or six white eggs from resting on the floor of the house. When the young are hatched the old birds are kept very busy suppiying food to the yawning throats that ever cry for more. Some observations made by Mr. O. Wid- mann, of St. Louis, and published several 126 years ago in the Forest and Stream, give an idea of the unceasing way in which the old birds perform this labor, and of the vast number of insects—many of them hurtful—which are destroyed daily by a pair of these useful birds. Writing from St. Louis under date of July 2, 1884, he says: It may be interesting to many of your readers to know more about the family cares of our birds. In order to find out how often young Martins are fed by their parents, and at what times the principal meals are served, I watched my sixteen feeding pairs The Purple Martin. day, and the young Martins may well call it their dinner. After this the parents took a well-deserved rest, but when the sun neared the horizon they were all off again, preparing for supper, which was not so hearty as one might expect. As a rule, the older the birds in the nest, the oftener they are fed, and from the size of the insect which the parents bring, the age of the young may be judged. The youngest birds are fed at longer intervals with crushed insects, mostly small beetles, from the craw. About a fortnight old, they are fed from the bill with soft insects of the size of large flies; but insects with stings, such as bees and wasps, are never | | | | No.| No.| No.| No.) No.) No.) No.) No.| No.| No.) No.| No.| No.| No. No.) No.| -» WEATHER CONDITIONS. TIME. 7lxaill xz 5 | 1 | ro | 24 | 25 | 22 | 16 | 36 r| 14] 26/19 | 6 abt — 1 | | — —— A.M. | | | | | | 75°, calm, clear, . 4 to 5 | 13% I Oee4 || 4 exon a7 5 6| 2 6] 6| Gi 4} g x | (85 ean atccat ns Ada 5 to 6 12 5 9 g|1i12|x2| 8 7 PEERS 8 6 6| 6) 4 5 | 1x8 77° to 84° , wind light, Ss. 6 to 7) 19| 4/36/15] 9 | 22! 32] 10/ 7 | 7] 8] 9 | x2] xx 6} 4| x71 84° to 7 to 8! 22 | 17} 22 | 18 | 14) 17| 9 | 1 7|14!314| 8] 8] x0] 6] 5} 202 85° to 86°. 8 to g | 26 | 18 | 16 | 19 | 18 | 2x |} 9] x4 | 13] 13! 319] 9 7 | x0] 1 9 | 232 86° to 87° g tozo |} 28} 25 | 22 | 27 | 25 | 17 | 35 | 25 | 20 | 22 | x2 | 14 | 1x | 7| 6| xo | 276 87° to 89° wind increasing S...... | xo torr | 27 | 32 | 20 | 20 | 27 | 20| 12 Qh x3) | 27 r7 | 3 6) | cross 7 | 255 CPE a aiboeis Sono nQbeIOd SAMOS ir tor2 | 17 | 18 | 23 | 14 | 24 | ro | x6 | 14 | 18 | 13 | 12 | 10] 8 4 6 5 | 217 g2°, storm approaching, wind) pm. | | 1 | | | shifting to W Bo etic sGeren ote zz to x | 28! a7 | 22, 22 | 17 | 23 | 15 | 43 | 20! x4] 13! xo | xr! 4] 6; 5 | a50 83° rain commencing at 1:25.. r to 2;16|]17|13/12| 9] 7 5 Al 7, 8 8 6 7 3 5 2) 132 78°, rain ceases at 2:45 Saiee tannins 2 to 3 7 5 8 | 7 | 9] 4| 2] 10 )1r!] 7 7 2! 9 | 12 3 6 | 119 80°, clearing, calm.. ... ...-.-- 3 to 4 | 4r | 38 | 35 | 45 | 31 | 38 | 35 | 40 | 32 | 24 | 22 | 23 | x8 | x5] x4 8 | 459 IO oie sane ireciosc item's = avie)ieiel==i=inie 4 to 5! 25 | 32] 20 | 22 | x4 | r7 |] 14 | 13] 33] 6] xr! 5| 8B} xx 8| 5 | 224 79° to 82°, wind S, W.........+- 5 to 6) 7|20/xr|x5|32|32| 9 | x4 | x2) 11 | 7/10/10) 3 | 7) @| x66 82° to 8x°, calm, clear........... 6 to 7 | xx | x4 | 23} a5 | 12 | x5} 24] xx | 10 | x4] z2] 8] 4] 9} 7) 5 oe 8r° to 80°) calm, clear........... 7 to 8 rs | 1x | 1 | II | 37 4 | 15 | x0 | ro] to 9 | Io} 16 | 35 | 6 7 | 177 |— —'—' — — — — —— = |——| | ——— 312 284 |280 275 254 249 |217 |203 fe 192 |185 ‘149 147 |134 |103 9° |3277 Number of visits by male ....... -.--+. +++ Ss 164 |140 |128 |127 83 |119 | 08 6x | 73 | 39 | 63 | 58 | 57 | 33 |r454 Number of visits by female.... . ...-.----+ [193 Rao X40} 47 127 |157 |134 | 84 |x05 | 13x [222 110 | 84 | 76 | 46 | 57 |1823 1 | during an entire day, June 24, from 4 A. M. till 8 brought. When four weeks old, large dragon- P, M., marking every visit of the feeding parents, males and females, separately. The Martins began hunting at 4:15, but no food was brought until 4:30. The accompanying table shows that our young Martins had to put up with a light breakfast, but the visits became more and more frequent as the sun and mercury climbed up, and reached their liveliest time between g and 10 A. M., i, e., lunch time. After that a lull was noticeable, broken only by an ap- proaching storm, which brought new life into the feeding business, but for a short time only, and to be reduced to a minimum during the light rain, 1:25 to 2:45. Even after the rain had ceased, little feeding was done until the sky begun to clear up and the sun reappeared. From that moment the number of visits swelled with great rapidity, and kept me hard at work for over an hour. It was the substantial meal of the flies, grasshoppers and butterflies make the principal food. The young Martins do not leave their box until they are six weeks old. The table itself needs no further explanation, except that the occupants of the sixteen boxes were of all ages, from one week old in No. 6 to five weeks old in Nos. 12, 16, 17. The number of hungry mouths has something to do with the frequency of the visits. No. 7, which heads the list, has four young ones (four weeks old), while most of the other boxes have three. No. 16 has only two. This gentleman, who has made a very careful study of this interesting species during the whole of its stay near St. Louis, gives in the same journala most interesting account of the roosting habits of this bird when on its southward migration. This Song Birds in Europe and America. 127 takes place late in the month of August, and for several weeks previous to their departure the Martins in great armies resort to the willows growing on the sand- bars on the opposite side of the river to roost. From Mr. Widmann’s description it would seem that the number of birds is quite beyond estimate. Previous to re- tiring to their sleeping places on the twigs of the willows, they sit upon the sandbars until it is almost dark, and then in a body take flight and disappear among the shrubs. The voice of the Martin is not unmusical. He has a cheerful twitter at all times, and his note at the breeding season really deserves to be called a love song, it is so sweet and pleasing. Its flight is easy, light and graceful, differing in this respect from that of the chimney swift, recently de- scribed in this magazine, which seems to be somewhat labored, though in reality it is not so. The Purple Martin is from 7¥ 2 to 8in. in length and measures 16in. across its extended wings. The color of the male is deep bluish-black with purplish reflec- tions. The female is paler throughout, and lacks the iridescence of the male, its throat and breast are dark gray and the other under parts lighter gray. The young are gray streaked with darker. SON Geb RaD Sim lN BU ReOsesR, “ACN! CAUMCH Ron@ Ae T has been repeatedly stated by writers who have had the opportunity of mak- ing the comparison that the United States is very deficient in song birds as com- pared with Europe—the British Islands in particular. One writer even goes so far as to say that “it may be safely asserted that in the midland counties of England the skylark alone, even in the month of March, sings more songs within the hearing of mankind than do all the songsters of the eastern United States’’—which, of course, isan exaggeration. The same writer* says: “Tt is, no doubt, very patriotic to prove that the woods and fields of North America are as vocal with bird song as those of England. The attempt has been made, but it is only necessary to cross the Atlan- tic, stay a month in the British Islands, and then return, taking frequent country walks on both sides of the water, to be- come convinced that the other side has all the advantage in quantity of bird song. Let us grant that the quality is equal— *W.H. Lockington,in The Churchman, though it is difficult to understand where in America the peer of the nightingale can be found—let us grant that the United States possesses a list of song birds larger than that of the British Islands—all this does not prove that the quantity of bird song is greater. * * * In England bird voices are everywhere. The chaf- finch is more abundant than the sparrow save in the centers of cities, and his cheery notes can be heard at all times; the robin redbreast is common in suburb and village and is not chary of his voice; and as for the skylark—it is hard to go anywhere in the country without hearing him. How is it here? Does any one pretend that bird song is common in the suburbs of our cities? Do robins and catbirds, our most plentiful singing birds, often treat us to a song as we sit on the piazza of our semi- detached cottage, or as we walk adown the tree-lined streets ?”’ It is not stated in the article from which the above is quoted where the writer's ob- servations in this country were made, 128 Song Birds in Europe and America. except that a “ Pennsylvania wood” is incidentally referred to. It is difficult to believe, however, that he can have had much, if any, experience with other por- tions of the country east of the Mississippi, for his comparisons certainly will not hold good fora large number of localities both east and west of the Alleghanies, however applicable they may be to the immediate vicinity of our larger Eastern cities. His comparison is also unfair in that, while questioning the existence in America of any “peer of the nightingale,’ he neg- lected to inquire where, in England—or the rest of Europe for that matter—can be found even any approach to our mocking- bird, although since it is tacitly granted that in the two countries the quality of bird song “ is equal,” we can afford to pass this by. It may also be remarked that the comparative number of species which can properly be ranked as songsters belonging to the United States east of the Mississippi River is about twice as great as that be- longing to the entire extent of the British Islands, counting in each case every species the male of which utters notes peculiar to the breeding season, or, in other words, has a song, however rude. It is conceded by the writer to whom I have referred that the quality of their song is equal. Is there not, therefore, apparently some inconsist- ency in the statement that the United States is so greatly deficient in bird song as compared with England? Or, should the statement be true, is it not an anomaly which requires explanation? Al- though no explanation has, so far as I am aware, been attempted, the. reason seems very obvious. In the first place, it would be almost impossible in most parts of thickly populated England, for a bird to sing without being heard by human ears. In the second place—and what is by far the most important factor in the case— birds in England have for many genera- tions been protected in numerous ways, until, in their almost absolute immunity from the perils to which they are in this country constantly exposed, a compara- tively large number have become accus- tomed to the society of man. Laws pro- tecting all kinds of song birds, and their nests and eggs are there enforced with a strictness which is absolutely unknown in any portion of the United States; and, in the numerous carefully policed public parks and thoroughfares and extensive pri- vate grounds, which ample wealth and long cultivation have made a veritable para- dise for birds, they live in full knowledge of their security, and with nothing to check their natural increase. The extreme scarcity of predatory birds and mammals, which have been for a long time nearly exter- minated throughout England, has also assisted to bring about that affluence of bird life which is so justly the pride of the English people. In the United States, notwithstanding the derogatory comparisons which have been made—and which, it is true, will, for reasons stated above, apply to the vicinity of our more densely populated centers, and also to regions of extensive forests—a condition at least closely ap- proaching that which is claimed as peculiar to the British Islands may be found in cer- tain favored sections; that is, in those parts where bits of deciduous woodland and open country alternate, with plenty of local variety in the landscape. Such a description will apply to a very large por- tion of the United States situated between the Alleghanies, on the one hand, and the Great Plains on the other, although not by any means exclusively to that region. The writer was once informed by a young Cana dian ornithologist—a specially observant “ field naturalist ” with a remarkably fine ear for bird notes, and able to imitate many with great exactness—that during several years’ residence in England he never heard finer nor more abundant bird music than on the —s, Song Birds in Europe and America. prairies of Manitoba, where the melodious and powerful warblings of the Western meadowlark were, to his ear, superior in richness and strength to the song of the famed nightingale, while the silvery trills of the Missouri skylark also exceeded in sweetness the more powerful, but far from musical, rattling warble of the English species. The writer has on many _ occasions heard, early on mornings in May and June, grand concerts of bird music, which prob- ably would challenge comparison, both as to quality and quantity, with any to be heard in other portions of the world, ex- cepting, probably, the highlands of Mexico, which are said, and probably with truth, to be without a rival in number and quality of songsters. The following list is copied from my note-book, and was made during the progress of such a concert, the birds named singing simultaneously in my immediate vicinity. The locality was not a particularly favorable one, being two miles from a small village, and at least three-fourths of the vicinity either heavy woodland or wooded swamp. The date May 12, and the locality southwestern Indiana: Four cardinal grosbeaks, three indigo buntings, numerous American goldfinches, one white-eyed vireo, one Maryland yellow- throat, one field sparrow, one Carolina wren, one tufted titmouse, one gray-cheeked thrush, one yellow-breasted chat, one Lou- isiana water-thrush, one red-eyed vireo, and two mourning doves—in all thirteen species, and at least twice that number of individuals! And here is a list of birds heard singing one day in June, about the edge of a prairie in southern Illinois: Two mockingbirds, one brown thrasher, three yellow-breasted chats, one warbling vireo, one Baltimore oriole, several meadowlarks, numerous dickcissels and Henslow’s and grasshopper sparrows, one lark sparrow, one robin, one towhee, one catbird, one 129 wood thrush, one oven bird, one summer tanager, several tufted titmice, one red- eyed vireo, one Bell's vireo, one white-eyed vireo, One cardinal grosbeak, one indigo bunting, two Maryland yellow-throats, one field sparrow, and one prairie lark—the latter a true lark, singing while suspended in mid-air, exactly in the manner of a sky- lark ; in all, twenty-five species and _per- haps fifty individuals. Is such a rich med- ley of bird music often, if ever, excelled in England? It is true that neither the skylark nor the nightingale nor the song thrush were included, but they were each represented, and well represented too; the first, if not by the prairie lark, whose manner of singing is identical, but whose song is comparatively feeble, then by his namesake the meadowlark, of which Wilson—himself a Scotchman—says that, although it “cannot boast the powers of song” which distinguish the skylark, “yet in richness of plumage as well as 1 sweet- ness of voice * * * stands eminently its superior” (italics our own); the second by the mockingbird, whose song is unrivalled for its combination of richness, variety, compass, volubility and vivacity; and the third by the brown thrasher, whose ener- getic, powerful and untiring melody is said to closely resemble in modulation that of the song thrush. Not less than half a dozen of the remaining species are song- sters of very pronounced merit, probably equalling, in one quality or another of song, the best of European singers, except- ing that celebrated trio, the nightingale, song thrush and skylark. It thus appears that the apparent defi- ciency of singing birds in the United States is an artificial rather than a natural condi- tion, characteristic, so far as the settled or cultivated portions are concerned, of the more densely inhabited centers, where birds have been actually driven off by the persecutions of the pot-hunter, to whom anything with feathers is game, and by the 130 indifference of the population in general. There can be no question that the boxes put up in the parks of our larger cities for the imported European house sparrow, which has not a single commendable qual- ity, would have attracted bluebirds and house wrens, two of our most attractive and useful birds, until these would by the present time have become as common and familiar as their true representatives in England—robin redbreast and kitty wren. The purple martin—grandest of the swal- low tribe—could in the same way have been attracted in large and useful numbers to the very centers of our largest cities. Alexander Wilson, the “ Father of Amer- ican Ornithology,’—a Scotchman, by the way—and Thomas Nuttall, an English- man, both praise our bluebird in unquali- fied terms, and also the house wren, the purple martin and some others. Hear what another Englishman (Captain Saville G. Reid, Royal Engineers), says of our bluebird, as observed by him. in Ber- muda, where it is resident, and, in accord- ance with the English custom, rigidly pro- tected: ‘ This is, to my mind, the most delight- ful of birds, and certainly the flower of the limited flock of Bermuda residents; its brilliant plumage, vivacious manners and pleasant warble render it an object of in- terest to all, while its confiding and fearless nature in the breeding season, and the number of noxious insects it destroys, cause it to be strictly protected throughout the islands. The male bird in spring, when the sun’s rays illumine his dazzling blue plumage, is perfectly lovely; he flashes across the road like a ray of azure light, and seems actually to blaze with intense color from among the sombre foliage of the cedars,” There is no bird in England—not even the semi-domestic robin redbreast—which is more easily encouraged to seek human society than the bluebird; certainly none Song Birds in Europe and America. are so beautiful and none more lovable in every way. The modest little chipping sparrow is even more easily encouraged, and it is equally deserving of encourage- ment, for, though neither beautiful in plum- age nor sweet of voice, he has a trim little form, a saucy red cap, and the most confid- ing manner, often, in the villages and at the farm-houses, attending the meals of the family and picking up crumbs which are thrown out the door, or, should the table be set out on the verandah or beneath the arbor, gathering them from among the feet of those sitting at the table. This trim little bird, which can so easily be made a household pet, is extremely useful in de- stroying injurious insects, is particularly beneficial to the garden, and is specially fond of the cabbage worm, of which one pair would keep a moderate sized garden quite free. The house wren is, as _ his name implies, one of our semi-domestic birds, and, being exclusively insectivorous, is one of the most useful, while his cheer- ful, sprightly warble renders him excellent good company. Wilson characterizes the song of the house wren as “ loud, sprightly, tremulous, and repeated every few seconds with great animation,” and says that “in strength of tone and execution, it is far superior” to that of the English species. The purple martin, largest, handsomest and most musical of all the swallow tribe, is not only an agreeable companion, but is also extremely useful as a destroyer of in- sects, which exclusively constitute its food, and as a protection to the farmer from hawks and crows, against the depredations of which there can be no better safeguard, since not one of these predatory birds dares approach the vicinity of a pair, much less a colony, of purple martins. The birds which are specially mentioned above are, with the robin and catbird (and, west of the Alleghanies, the bluejay), pre- eminently our most familiar species; but there are many others which are most at Song Birds in Europe and America. 131 home in our orchards or among the shade trees along the streets of villages and towns, or even sometimes within large cities. A good example of this latter class is the warbling vireo, which Nuttall char- acterizes as a bird “almost confined to our villages and even cities.” He says that it is “rarely observed in the woods; but from the tall trees which decorate the streets and lanes, the almost invisible musi- cian, secured from the enemies of the for- est, is heard to cheer the house and cottage with his untiring song,’’ and that he has heard it singing as late as October 2. Its song, says Mr. Thomas Mcllwraith (in “Birds of Ontario’’), “is soft, subdued and flowing, like the murmuring of a hidden brook in the leafy month of June.’ The beautiful yellow warbler is one of our com- monest orchard birds ; and if the bluebird is the most delightfnl of our birds, this is the most lovely, with his plumage of mellowest gamboge-yellow, streaked with richest chestnut-red on breast and sides, and pretty, cheerfulsong. He is not only beautifui and tuneful, but useful as a de- stroyer of insects infesting fruit trees, which constitute his only food. This list of familiar, attractive and use- ful songsters might be greatly extended ; but enough have been mentioned to show that the United States is not so badly off in the matter of song birds as might ap- pear. We have them in abundance, but they are treated with indifferen¢e—or, what is worse still, subbed by the perverted sen- timent which prefers the detestable house sparrow to the bluebird, the house wren or the purple martin. When that worse than useless foreign vagabond was introduced to this country, boxes were immediately put up for his accommodation, and every means taken to protect him. Yet, none of our native birds, no matter how useful, beautiful or melodious, was considered worth the trouble. Had the same steps been taken to encourage and protect those of our native species which are most wor- thy of such attention, there is no question that our towns and villages and city parks would by this time have become full of bluebirds, wrens and other attractive and useful birds, whose place is now taken by that rank weed among birds, the European sparrow. Successful as has been the intro- duction of the latter pest, attempts have been made to naturalize various European song birds, but they have all proven fail- ures, as might have been expected had the matter been properly considered. It should be remembered, in this connection, that the climate of this country is exceedingly different from that of Europe—especially the British Islands—which is characterized by milder winters and cooler summers, while our winters are severe and with fre- quent changes of temperature, and our summer heat of tropical intensity. There- fore, few of the resident European species could stand the vicissitudes of our climate. Again, birds which in the mild climate of England are resident throughout the year would, if brought to this country, be forced to migrate or else perish; while migration being but an inherited instinct, followed by the predecessors of existing individuals of each species for thousands of generations, this instinct serves them to no purpose ina strange country, but, on the other hand, is apt to lead them to destruction, since, when the season for migration arrives, they are as apt to fly directly out to sea as not, and thus be destroyed. Let us, therefore, instead of continuing to deprecate our supposed scarcity of song birds and attempting the remedy by futile importations of foreign species, encourage and rigidly protect those which the bounty of nature has provided for us, and of which we have every reason to be proud. RoBeRT RipGway, EN aS ne FIFTY COMMON BIRDS HEN you begin to study the birds in the fields and woods, you should make yourself as much a part of the scenery as possible, so that they will not be frightened by something striking and unusual. The majority of birds are not afraid of man as a figure, but as an active, aggres- sive object. The observance of a few sim- ple rules will help you to become incon- spicuous. First—Avoid very light-colored clothing. Second—Walk slowly and noiselessly. Third—Avoid. all sudden, jerky move- ments. Fourth—Avoid all talking, or speak only in an undertone. Fifth—If the bird is singing, and stops on your approach, stand still for a few moments and encourage him by answering his call. If he gets interested, you can often creep up within opera glass distance without his objecting. Sixth—Make a practice of stopping often, and standing perfectly still. In that way you will hear voices that would be drowned by your movement; and the birds will come to the spot without noticing you, when they would fly away in advance if they were to see and hear you walking toward them. The best way of all is to select a favor- able place, and sit there quietly for several hours, to see what will come. Then you get at the home life of the birds, not mere- ly seeing them when they are on their (Owing to an oversight the complete title of Miss Merrie am’s series of bird sketches was not given in the June Aupu- BON, but appears this month, Several of our common birds, sketches of which have already appeared in the MaGAzineE, will be omitted from Miss Merriam’s series. —Ep1Tor AUDUBON MAGAZINE. ] *CopyriGHT, 1887, By Florence A. MeRRIAM, AUDUBON AND HOW Il. WORKERS.* TO KNOW THEM. guard. For careful observation in general, three rules may be given. First—In clear weather be sure to get between the sun and your bird. In the wrong light a scarlet tanager or an indigo bird will look as black as a crow. Second—Gaze. Let your eyes rest on the trees before you, and if there is any movement, you will soon discover your bird, Third—Beware of the besetting sin of observers. Never jump at conclusions. Prove all your conjectures. If you take these simple precautions, the success of your work will be greatly increased. PHBE, If you class the robin, the bluebird, and blackbird together, on account of their strik- ing colors, and distinguish the sparrows by their striped backs, the common flycatchers will readily stand out as unstriped, dull, dark, grayish birds, that have light breasts. Knowing that their vocal organs are unde- veloped, you are not surprised by the abrupt call of the phcebe. Although it resembles a jerking repetition of pha-de’, pha-be’, it is not exactly what the word would indicate. The first part of the call is comparatively clear, but the second is a longer rasping note, making the whole more like pha-rée’, pha-réé’, with a heavily trilled r. When the birds first begin coming north you will hear this, and you will soon re- cognize it from barns and sheds, or on lawns, in open fields, and along the sides of streams. When you have traced the call to its source—and it is an excellent habit to see every bird whose notes attract your attention—the dull slate-colored coat and the whitish vest, with its washing of pale yellow, is soon forgotten in watching the curious habits of the little fellow. Flints to Audubon Workers. I Somewhat longer than a song sparrow— twe thirds as large as a robin—he is strik- ingly unlike that cheery, busy little bird. There he sits on a branch, in an attitude that would scandalize the neat songster. His wings droop listlessly at his sides, and his tail hangs straight down in the most untidy fashion. He seems the personification of negligent indifference; but if you focus your opera-glass upon him, you will see that his wings are vibrating, and his tail jerking nervously at intervals. Suddenly he starts into the air, snaps his bill loudly over the unsuspecting fly he has been lying in wait for, and just as suddenly settles back on his branch, with a spasmodic jerk of the tail. And now, as he sits there, looking about for another victim, you have a good chance to study him through your glass, and observe the peculiarities of the bill that gave such a resounding “click.” If you noticed the bills of the robin and bluebird, you saw that they were long, thin and slen- der—well fitted for their worm diet—while the sparrows, who live mostly on seeds, had the short, stout, characteristic finch bill. The flycatchers’ bills are especially adapted to catching the insects upon which they live. At the base there are long, stiff bristles, and the upper half of the bill hooks over the lower one so securely at the end, that when an insect is once entrapped it has a small chance of escape. The pheebe is very fond of making its nest on the beams of horse sheds and under bridges, apparently indifferent to the dust and noise of its position. The nest is an unusually pretty one, and looks very soft and luxurious. Both the moss that trims it, and the long horse hairs that hang from it add to the appearance of careless ease. Even the five large white eggs have a generous alr. Mr. Burroughs describes its nest and hab- its in “Wake Robin,” pp. 16, 63, 139, and “Birds and Poets,” p. 37-38. ios) ies) MEADOWLARK. To a great many people the meadowlark is only a voice, but if you follow the rule laid down at the beginning of your work and are determined to see as well as hear, you will have little trouble in finding the owner of the plaintive call, that rises so mysteriously out of the grass. Focus your glass on the meadow and then listen carefully for the direction of the sound. The lark is a little larger than a robin, but, as he is very much the color of the dead grass that covers the ground when he first comes north, and the dry stubble left after the summer mowing, he is hard to When you have found him, you dis- cover that his general brownish-yellow color is relieved by a bright yellow throat, below which is a large black crescent. When he flies, you recognize him as one of the few birds characterized by white tail feathers. He nests in the field, laying his white speckled eggs in a coil of dried grass on the ground. The peculiarities of his labored flight are exactly described in Shelley’s “Ode to the Skylark,” when he says, “Thou dost float and run.” Flying seems hard work for him, and he does as little of it as possible. When he starts up from the meadow, he goes in a straight oblique line to the tree he wishes to reach. The famous song of the European lark may be superior to that of our own, but the mournful melody of the meadowlark is full of poetic suggestions. He is the hermit thrush of the meadows, as solitary and pensive where the light-hearted bobo- link’s song jostles the sunbeams, as the lonely hermit is in his dusky forest clois- see. ter. CATBIRD. The catbird is one of the most interest- ing, and at the same time, most exasperating of birds, to the tyro. Like some people, he seems to give up all his time to the 134 Flints to Audubon Workers. pleasure of hearing himself talk. He isa first cousin of the mockingbird—whom he resembles in person much more than in voice—and the relationship may account for the overweening confidence he has in his vocal powers. As a matter of fact, his jerky utterance is so strikingly harsh that some one has aptly termed it asthmatic. The catbird is unmistakably a Bohemian. He is exquisitely formed; has a beautiful slate-gray coat, set off by a black head and tail; by nature he is peculiarly graceful; and when he chooses, can pass for the most pol- Jshed of the cultured Philistine aristocracy. But he cares nothing for all this. With the laziness of a self-indulgent Bohemian, he sits by the hour with relaxed muscles, and wings and tail drooping listlessly. If he were a man, you are convinced that he would sit in his shirt sleeves at home, and go on the street without a collar. And his occupation? His cousin is an artist, but he—is he a wag as well as a cari- caturist, or is he in sober earnest when he tries to mimic a Wilson’s thrush? If he is a wag, he is a successful one, for he de- ceives the unguarded into believing hima robin, a cat, and—‘“a bird new to science!” How he must chuckle to himself over the enthusiasm with which his notes are hailed in their different characters, and the be- wilderment and crestfallen disgust that come to the more diligent observer when he finally catches a glimpse of the garrulous mimic. He builds his nest as he does everything else. The great loose mass of coarse twigs, heaped together and patched up with pieces of newspaper or anything that happens to come in his way, looks as if it would hardly bear his weight. He lines it, however, with fine bits of dark roots, and when the beau- tiful green eggs are laid in it, you feel sure that such an artistic looking bird must take a peculiar pleasure in the contrasting colors. High trees have an unsocial aspect, and so we find him in low bushes on the edge of a river, or even by the side of the gar- den, enjoying the sun and his own com- pany. In “Wake Robin,” in the chapter on the “Return of the Birds,’ Mr. Burroughs gives an interesting instance of the maternal in- stinct of the catbird. CUCKOO; RAIN CROW. A third larger than a robin, the cuckoo is a long, slender, olive-brown bird with a white breast, and white spots known as “thumb marks” on the under side of his tail. Unless you follow him to his haunts you rarely see him. Now and then, perhaps, you catch a glimpse of his long brown body, as he comes silently out of a clump of bushes to disappear with swift straight flight in a heavily leaved tree or mass of shrubbery where he suspects a fresh supply of insects. His presence is generally remembered by the proverbially prophetic call to which he owes the name “rain crow.” His nest and eggs resemble those of the catbird, but in general a greater contrast could not be imagined than between the two birds. Mr. Burroughs gives an especially happy description of him in his “ Return of the Birds.” He says: “The cuckoo is one of the most solitary birds of our forest, and is strangely tame and quiet, appearing equally untouched by joy or grief, fear or anger. Something remote seems ever weighing upon his mind. His note or call is as of one lost or wandering, and to the farmer is prophetic of rain. Amid the gen- eral joy and the sweet assurance of things, I love to listen to the strange clairvoyant call. Heard a quarter of a mile away, from out the depths of the forest, there is something peculiarly weird and monkish about it. Wordsworths lines upon the Tlints to Audubon Workers. 135 European species apply equally well to OUurS:— *O blithe new comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice; O cuckoo! Shall I call thee bird ? Or but a wandering voice ? ‘While I am lying on the grass, Thy loud note smites my ear! From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off and near ! * * + * ‘Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, » A voice, a mystery. BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEE; TITMOUSE. Read Emerson’s “Titmouse’’ and you will recognize this charming little creature without the help of your glass. Not only in the spring and fall, but in the coldest winter days his bright ‘ chick-a-dee-dee— dee-dee,’ that Thoreau calls “silver tink- ling,” rings through the air. When you hear it, if you look carefully over the tree, you will see a fluffy little body with a black hood that is-relieved by whitish side pieces; a vest to match the sides of the hood ; and a dark gray coat for contrast. He is flitting about hither and thither, clinging to the side of a tree one minute, and picking at the moss on a branch the next; and you will hardly catch more than a glimpse of his black cap and gray and white clothes, unless you come nearer to him. If you care for a better view you need not be afraid of frightening him, for he has the most winning confidence in man, inspecting the trees in your front yard or those in the woods, with the same un- conscious unconcern. ‘You are inclined to think that the busy chickadee takes no time to meditate, and sees only the bright side of life; and when you hear his plaintive minor whistle echo- ing through the woods, you wonder if it can have come from the same little creature whose merry chick’-a-dee-dee’ you know so well. This little atom at full breath, Hurling defiance at vast death never does anything by halves. When he is happy, he is the best company one could hope for, on a winter’s walk; when he is busy he seems the realization of perpetual motion; and when he gives up his ordinary pursuits and prepares to rear a farnily, he goes to work in the same generous fashion. He leaves civilization with its many dis- tractions, and goes into the woods. Even there he is not content to sit on the top of anest; and as his bill is too delicate to be used as a saw, he fits up an old wood- pecker's hole in the side of a stump or a dead stub, and retires from the world with the determination of a hermit. In lining his nest he shows the delicacy of taste one naturally expects from him. Although the bottom of the nest is a foot or more below the hole, it is far prettier than most of the bird homes that are on exhibition in the forest. Bits of fresh green moss give it a dainty air, and bring out to the best advantage the dark gray of the squirrel or rabbit fur that makes it snug and warm One is tempted to won- der where the fur came from, and if the ardent chickadee tweaked it out of the back of some preoccupied squirrel. Per- haps the demure little recluse has a spice of wickedness after all, and his satisfaction in his secure retreat has something of ex- ultant mischief in it. YELLOWBIRD; AMERICAN GOLDFINCH ; THISTLEBIRD. Like the chickadee, this is one of the captivating little birds that make Audubon workers feel most strongly the barbarism of the bird-wearing fashion. A trifle larger than the titmouse—say a third as large as a robin—his slender form fits him for fly- ing about in the air, while the chickadee, who spends his time flitting around the 136 tree trunks and branches, is naturally plump and fluffy In summer the goldfinch’s black cap, black wings and tail set off his bright yel- low body to the best advantage, but in September he loses his beauty, and, until the next April or May, looks very much like his plain little wife. His black trim- mings are gone, and he has become flaxen- brown above, and whitish-brown below, altogether commonplace in appearance. Perhaps it is his annual humiliation that gives him such a sweet disposition ! He has the characteristic finch bill—a short stout cone well adapted for cracking the seeds that form the largest part of his diet. He is called thistlebird because of his fondness for the seeds of the thistles, and you will soon discover that his favorite perch is a thistletop. He builds quite late in the summer, generally in July, sometimes choosing a low apple tree and sometimes a crotch in the branch of a larger tree, for his nest. But wherever it is, the nest is always a dainty Sim. compact little one, lined with just such soft, downy things as one would imagine such a bird would select. There is only room for four or five eggs, and these are very pale blue, unspotted. In summer the yellowbird reminds you strongly of the canary, and his song carries the resemblance still further. His tender, plaintive call, however, is much sweeter than any of the notes of a canary. Bay-bee’, bay-ée-béé, he sings out while on the wing, and the rhythm of the notes corresponds to that of his peculiar undula- ting flight, which Mr. Burroughs has de- scribed with such careful detail. Of all our common birds, with the ex- ception of the hummingbird, the little gold- finch is the daintiest, the most fairylike. As he flutters his wings a few times, and then lets himself float down on the air, too happy to do anything but enjoy the blue sky and sunshine, he seems a veritable bird Ariel. Think of taking the life of such an exquisite little creature, to wear him on your hat ! FLORENCE A. MERRIAM. JIM. IM was our pet bird. I called him that after my boy Jim at home, far off in the States. Some day, when you grow up, my little friends, you will know what a man’s love for his children is, and may you be spared the pain of separation from an only son! Which would you like to hear about first, the boy Jim or the bird Jim? Probably the boy, because you will want to know why he was away up in the North, while his mother and I, and our little daugh- ter Ruth, lived in South America, in a city named Rio de Janeiro. This is the reason why: You know that Brazil is a great cof- fee-growing country, do you not? Well, my business was shipping coffee to the United States, and so we had to live in the tropics, where the people are neither indus- trious, nor active, nor progressive, and where there were no good schools. Jim was eight years old—just the age to learn, 1am sure you are thinking—so we were forced to send him home to a school in New York State, while Ruth, our bright, dark-eyed girl, was still so young that we kept her with us yet awhile. We knew well that the day would come, ere long, when we would have to send her, too; but we never spoke of it. Our house stood in a winding, rough- paved street, on a high hill leading up from the city, and overlooking the blue bay, in- closed in its frame of mountains, whose peaks are so rugged and fantastic in shape and outline. We could see the ships come in from sea, and sometimes, with the help Jim. of a field glass, we could even distinguish their names. We had a garden in front of the house, and one on either side, and one in the rear. In this latter garden we kept dozens of chickens—rare, fine breeds—and you should have heard how our bird Jim mimicked the timid “cheep! cheep!” of the tiny chicks, and the important, motherly “cluck! cluck! of the old hens, as they went bustling around the yard. Jim came to us in this manner: There is a time of year, in all hot coun- tries, when it becomes dangerous to remain in the cities, on account of the yellow fever. One summer, when I had taken my family up into the mountains to a place called Palmeiras, little Ruth one day found a wounded bird in the woods, near the house, where she was walking with Antonio, our copeiro, or man-servant. The bird was a big, plain, gray fellow—not handsome at all—and_ had evidently been bitten by a snake or tarantula, a large, hairy and very poisonous kind of spider—or some one of the venomous creatures that abound in the South American forests. Ruth picked him up and carried him home, and she nursed him, with our help, until ina few days he was hopping about and chirping, and was almost able to fly. There was a celebrated naturalist traveling in Brazil at this time— a man of sweet and kindly nature, who loved children, as well as all the rest of creation, and of whom the little ones were never afraid. You can all ask your moth- ers his name, little people, and read his books, when you are older, and learn about his wonderful knowledge and his discoy- eries, and above all what a good man he was. Well! This great and good man came to make usa visit of a few days, at our cottage, and small Miss Ruth, nothing dismayed, at once brought her half-sick bird, wrapped up in a shawl, to show him. The professor was delighted. “Why, my child, you have rescued a Sadia da Pria, the Brazilian mockingbird,” he said; 137 “you are a very fortunate little girl. Do not let him get away. Ask your father to buy you a large cage for him, and when he gets well, as he soon will, you will see what a famous singer he will prove to be.” Ruth clapped her hands and danced around the room for very pride and happiness. To think that she, her own little self, had found this precious Sadia / Now, Ruth already possessed a perfect menagerie of dogs and cats and birds, and a scrap of a monkey, and a naughty rooster that was the terror of the neighborhood, and what not, but she did not tire of her old pets when a new one was given to her, as so many children do. She was a loyal, faithful little soul, and if Jim was her great- est favorite it was not because he was the latest arrival in her family, but because she had saved his life. Jim did grow to be a famous singer. I had a roomy, comfortable cage made for him to live in, and as he was a young bird, he soon grew perfectly at home in his new quarters, and seemed bright and contented and strong. He began to sing at once, every day a little more, every day treat- ing us to prettier songs than before. After two or three months had passed over his head he began to astonish us and everybody with his exquisite wild notes and his fresh imitations, for you know, children, that these birds are called mock- ingbirds because they mimic or mock every sound they hear. There was nothing, from the mewing of cats, the barking of dogs, braying of donkeys, neighing of horses, and other noises, down to the cry or crow of a baby, or human laughter, but what Jim could imitate, and well, too. It would have made you all laugh to hear him. But be- sides these funny imitations, Jim could pour forth from his plain gray throat a flood of long, entrancing melody that I have never heard equalled, and as he was a loud, bril- liant and joyous singer, not in the least shy, he could be heard, when we took him back 138 to the city, after the intense heat and the fatal fever season were over, far down the hill and far up the hill and “across the hills and far away.’ And everywhere around our region people would say, “There goes little Ruth Mayfield’s wonderful bird Jim, singing away to his heart’s content.” In my few leisure hours I had tried to cultivate Jim's voice, too, and with such marked success that he could whistle “The Star-Spangled Banner” correctly and clearly when he chose. He did not always choose, though, and sometimes when we most wanted him to “show off,” no coaxing nor persuasion would induce him to whistle it. He was like some little boys and girls that you and I know of, wasn’t he? I believe that if my wife or I had had the time, or if Ruth, who possessed a perfect ear for music, had been old enough to teach him, Jim could have been taught to whistle any tune. You know, though, that to train any pet requires unwearying patience and time at one’s command. Altogether, Jim was a marvel, and he was so tame and had such an affectionate disposition, united with his many accom- plishments, that we all grew much attached to him, especially Ruth. She was very proud and very fond of him. Here is a letter she sent home to her brother. The words, if not the writing and spelling (she was only six years old), are strictly her own : “My DEAR BROTHER: “Thope you are well and enjoying yourself. I have a new bira, Jim papa named him. Heis ugly. Heis big. He has some long legs stiff, and he jumps from perch to perch. He is not quiet one single minute. Papa bought a great big cage, which Letersay Sin. is all he could live in [the only size that would hold him she means]. I admire him better much than all my pets. [You see, she would not acknowledge she loved him the best.] Mamma says I must give you their names. Jollie is a English lark Capt. Gar- dener brought to me. He is sad to go home again. Punch and Judy is two cardinals, and has red heads. Faith, Hope and Charity, and Pride and Prejudice [Pide and Pejjidish, in Ruth’s language], which is canaries, and sings beautiful, in spite of Jim. Bijou is a monkey marmoset, who is cross and snaps, but he don’t come up to Dom Pedro, a rooster, who fighted a boy. I called my lovely mastiff, that came on the ship, Monsieur, and Toddles is a little sweet Scotch terrier—oh! so small! Haven't I got a fine lot? Jim’s cage is grinded up to the top nights, so that no rats, nor cats, nor é/xes will eat him up, and he can whistle the Star-Spangled Banner [that Ruth pronounced Tar-Pangled Banner], and he can whistle and sing the greatest in the world. Good- bye. From your affectionate little sister, ““RuTH MAYFIELD.” As Ruth stated, though perhaps you did not quite understand what she meant, we were so afraid lest any harm should come to our Jim from &xos (a Brazilian word, which means any kind of hurtful or despised thing, or animal, or insect), we had his cage fastened to ropes in the ceiling, and every night we lifted him gently up by means of pulleys. One night we heard a fearful crash. We hurried out into the room where Jim slept, and found that his cage had fallen clear down to the hard tiled floor. Whether it was that the rafters of the old house were rotten and had given way, or whether the rats had gnawed the ropes, or indeed what had caused the accident, we could never just tell. Certain it was that the cage was prostrate and Jim, our brave, noble singer, lay dead. ‘The fall had broken his neck. H. E. MAYFIELD. ao bt ACU DUE. O Ne NOU Ba. B.O'O'K, MEMBERSHIP RETURNS. THE number of registered members at 1st of June was 32,670, showing an increase of 2,714 for the month, distributed as follows : NWN OMG cies c= csteuizs ve 643) Minnesotave sce scree ee ce 13 Pennsylvania............. 540) Loucsiania\cscscsciesseekcs Massachusetts............ 225 Connecticut .........-.... Dry] GES retoeeer Looaee 171 West Virginia OMG Ss). se25200 seasces 130 District of Columbia. 12 VEICIIPANS «<= Ficieae civics in -% 1zt California I MISSOUKI. «<0 2 cen scons 193 Vermont....... 6 New Hampshire.......... 45 Tennessee USS esac osenssa60555 720 Georgia -c<5 oes so cee PRCeIPTICIOV cin's o1iu tie /sisiore ce - 7M aKyiand ene cscci cone DOLE co acge anbeg Seonten 2Wlowaiscs.<.s-55 North Carolina........... 12 New Mexico. Rhode Island............- ate Montane ae) aces SU MOISseaisisicl=m.-1-) sei) <= a\< 7B) Wisconsin’. --.5.-i..=secss<, XO ‘ai Dominion of Canada ..... 113 European Countries...... 23 2,714 C. F. AMERY, General Secretary. SLAUGHTER IN FLORIDA. AN extract from a letter written from Pinecastle, Florida, by Mr. J. Summerlin, gives some idea of the difference in numbers of the Florida birds now and a few years ago. No law and no sentiment protects the birds in that State, and they are butchered an- nually by tens of thousands. It is to be hoped that the Florida Legislature, which is now in session, may soon take steps to remedy this evil. Mr. Summerlin says: ‘‘Through my long meanderings I watched closely for birds and deer. I saw but a few hundred birds where formerly I had seen from ten to twenty thousand. I met plenty of hunters with buggies and wagons loaded with bird plumes. The birds were killed at a season of the year when they were rearing their young. On passing the rookeries where the hunters had been a few days previous, the screams and calls of the starving young birds were pitiful to hear. Some were just fledged, while others were so young that they could make but little noise. But all must inevitably starve to death. I asked several of the hunters how many young birds were thus des- troyed through their cruelty, and their estimation was two to four young birds for each plume they had secured. I cannot describe the horror it gave me to hear the pitiful screams of the dying little birds. From the number of plumes the hunters had it is but fair to estimate that within thirty days, in Brevard county alone, twelve hundred birds have been shot for their plumes. Cannot our legislators put a stop to this destruction of the birds, as they are innocent and do no one any harm, while their beautiful plum- age is one of the attractions of Florida. In the southern part of the State the birds begin pluming in February. Then the hunting begins and continues until May.” THE AUDUBON BADGE. Ir has been decided to issue the Audubon badge proposed in our June Note Book. Almost everybody seems to want it; the young because it is ornamental and distinctive, and the older ones because it is a silent assertion of principles, and calculated to pro- voke inquiry, paving the way to a natural and easy discussion of the Society and its objects. To the young, moreover, it will be a constant reminder of their pledges. The badge will be of coin silver as already stated. The die is in course of preparation, and orders will be registered forthwith. Price fifty cents. Send postal note or stamps to Forest and Stream Publishing Co., 40 Park Row, New York. A LITTLE GIRL’S OWL. RIVERSIDE, Ohio, June 2. My dear Amy—Do you remember the old tree that we used to climb last summer? Two owls have built a nest in it, and they have little ones. Last week one of the little owls got out of the nest and lost his way and we found him and we brought him home and put him in the hen coop in the yard. The next day what do you think we found? At the door of the coop a big fat mouse just killed. The next day two dead birds were lying by the coop. The old owls have found out where the little owl is and they come at night and bring him food. I think we shall keep him until he gets tame. I have never seen a pet owl, have never you? Don’t you forget to write to me about your birthday. ‘ Your loving cousin, Lucy 2 This letter was never intended for publication; it reached Cousin Amy as directed, and we hope inter- ested her, but she lost it. Fortunately it was found on the street by one of our correspondents, who thought it would be a nice letter to send to all the readers of the AUDUBON. We donot know Lucy E., but for all that, we feel quite sure it is a true story. Evidently the old bird was satisfied that Lucy wanted to care for the young one and fill a mother’s place, 140 The Audubon Note Book. but what could Lucy know about feeding young owls ? If the mother bird had fed the young one herself at night, Lucy would be none the wiser, but by putting the dead mouse and small birds down outside the coop she gave Lucy full instruction in her duties. Let us hope she did not get small birds for it, but that she kept the trap constantly set and provided the owlet with an abundance of good fat mice. SMASHED BIRDS. Tue following extracts from a paper by Mrs. H. R. Haweis recently printed in the London magazine #elgravia, will be sure to interest all members of the Audubon Society: A corpse is never a really pleasant ornament; most people with a real feeling for beauty will agree with me. Holbein painted one with terrible truth to nature. Other old masters, equally great, painted many corpses, but they were all painted with a motive —to startle, not to tickle, the pulses. All the ideas awakened by such an image are charne//e, not joyous; and the primary object of all decorations is to give joy and pleasure, to appeal through the eye to the happiest emotions, which a corpse does not do—even when it has glass eyes. * * * When I was in America two years ago, in many ways the pleasantest tour I ever made, I found a fashion rife which had not yet submerged England, the fashion of wearing huge birds, mostly ina rather smashed state, on the head gear. When I went into a car of a morning, I could not help immediately counting half a dozen smashed birds; I changed toa second, nine smashed birds met my gaze; went into a third, sixteen smashed birds. Along the street every other woman had a smashed bird on her head, every bonnet shop was full, and at Boston, where, the weather being rainy, black waterproofs were com- monly worn by all classes, this gay-colored smashed bird peering from the macintosh hood, ever and aye, struck me as quite comic. I have seen a gray parrot put to this use, and I constantly saw gulls towering two feet from the face. * * * Since then the disease has reached England. We too spatchcock on us, back or front, monstrosities which set some of us wondering whether they are most heartless or most hideous. The raggedest girl can clap a smashed bird on her smashed bonnet, and she does it. If she cannot afford to buy one, she can trap a young sparrow, tread on it, and pin it to her unkempt head. The richest leader of fashion is radical enough to keep her in countenance, for in England equality of women is a furor; and there no longer exists the prejudice that ‘‘what everybody does” is ‘‘vulgar’’—indeed, vulgarity is a cult in more ways than one, by reaction. From America comes our levelling tendency, from America our smashed bird. Let us take from America now the example set by her most cultivated ranks, and dis- courage the indiscriminate slaughter of creatures so useful and beautiful in their proper places, in order to put them to an unnatural use in pursuit of—it sounds ironical to say beauty and joy—so we must say ugliness and pain. America’s Audubon Society did not actually precede our Selborne Society; but it is ay times as active, and therefore fifty times as useful, Now, the reason I did not like these smashed birds was (1) because I am acquainted with live birds, and the agonized attitudes vexed my eye. The poor impaled beasts seemed to cry aloud from the hat, “Help me! I am in torture.” They seldom had their limbs in the right places; generally the head down, one wing up, the other—well, occasionally on the contrary side of a bow—and the legs splayed out like horns. Miserable it was toan art student. (2.) A big bird, even when properly placed, legs below, head up, and a wild hilarity in its eye, is a consider- able weight, and such a burden is out of place at the edge or front of a hat. A living bird could not stand there; the head could not bear the weight. A live pigeon weighs one pound, a gull from two and one - quarter to five pounds, and therefore its being there in effigy contradicted the canons of good taste. Visiting North Devonshire not long ago, Lee and Morthoe, I noticed that never a bird’s song struck the ear; one never sawa bird. I was told the wise and intelligent natives had long waged war on small birds; and what was the result? Why, that hardly a single walk could be taken in the woods for the mass of slugs that lay all over the rich grass every- where, sometimes in uncounted numbers, only four or five feet apart—slugs so huge that they reminded one of snakes, only that a snake is less disgusting, and has better manners; at least it will politely re- move itself when it sees you coming. The brutal slug is like the slimy lounger, heavy with drink or selfishness, who will bar your way without apology, when there is no road but past a public house. Pretty Lee was a purgatory tome thus; which ever green glade I sought to penetrate, Fafner barred my progress, and stretched and yawned in his vile content at being too horrible tocrush. Why were these disgraceful slugs fattening all over De- von? Because the birds were writhing on hats or hanging in tatters on barn doors, And snails, ear- wigs, all the grubs and beetles one can think of avenged the birds on the farmers’ crops and the gentry’s pleasaunces. The ‘‘caterpillars innumer- able’? eat more than the birds did. In vain the indignant farmer's wail! God is ‘‘on the side of the big battalions,” even when the army is of slugs, and it is of no use praying for good harvests while we make them impossible. Much of the failure of crops and the fall in the value of land and home produce is directly traceable to our interference with the proper balance of nature in her creatures. However, were the fashion of wearing mangled birds and beasts on the head really pretty and pleas- ant to the educated eye, no consideration for farmer or innocent pedestrian could be expected to touch the thoughtless votaries of 4a mode. Still less can they be touched on the sentimental side—have not some leathern girls danced at balls with a trimming of robin redbreasts on their half-clad forms ?—and questions of cruelty are certainly best discussed dis- tinct from questions of beauty. I have never been unphilosophic enough to argue the question of dress from the moral side, though I may nurse a private opinion that a moral side exists and has a most deep influence, because dress is an index to character. And it is only because so many pretty faces on both sides the Atlantic have been spoilt by this smashed- bird excrescence of sick fancy, that I venture to al- lude to the farmer as above, who deserves scant pity, no doubt, while himself remains the worst naturalist. The Audubon Note Book. My readers may be glad to know that when rural property and rural pleasure in America were seen to be in danger through thoughtless shooting by boys and indiscriminate trapping by milliners’ envoys, when entire species were disappearing from the groves and fens, the lovely hummingbird extermi- nated in several places, the innocent bobolink and others becoming extinct, the American Ornitholo- gists’ Union got an act passed for the protection of birds other than game birds, and their nests and eggs. (The game birds were already under pro- tection.) The Audubon Society set itself to create a public sentiment in support of the law. The active members endeavored to enlighten the crass ignorance of the common people by instructing them in the important functions performed by birds in planting seeds, fertilizing virgin and poor soil, devouring young grubs, chrysalides, and flies on the wing, and many more ways. They popularized “‘dry”’ scien- tific reports on natural history of all kinds, and taught those classes whose liberty was restrained by the prohibitive acts w/y legislation was vital, and what would be the consequences of indifference. The Society rapidly grew to immense proportions, and one of the first effects was the reduction of the odious fashion of wearing smashed birds. * * * THE EDITOR’S TALK. The Band of Mercy and Humane Educator, pub- lished by the Young American Humane Union of Philadelphia, and edited by Mrs. Charles Willing, who contributes a goodly share of the original mat- ter, is a modest little monthly of eight pages octavo. Mrs. Willing has not been able to give 7he Band oy Mercy that wide circulation which its general excel- lence merits and which she craves, not for the sake of the dollars and dimes, but because its pleasant pages contain seeds of pure and healthy thought which she would like to see fertilizing and shaping the characters of the young people in all the pleasant land of Penn. We are told that the subscriptions barely cover the costs of a single month’s issue. This is not as it should be; not as it would be if the little sheet were better known. It is full of charm- ing stories, original and culled, every one of which possesses an educational value. It does not take very long to skim through Ow Dumb Animals, but one turns from its perusal re- freshed. Written in advocacy of mercy to our dumb friends, there is no taint of maudlin sentimental- ity about it, but every line is breezy, healthful and robust, with a vein of pleasant humor peering through the crannies. Every sentence of matter pertaining to the affairs of the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is accentuated by the strong individuality of its robust founder and president, Geo. T. Angell, and the gleanings, which by the way are always conscientiously acknowledged, bear no less evidence of good judgment in their I4I selection. It is necessary to the success of such an undertaking as the Mass. Soc. P. C. A., that its director should have the faculty of putting his hands into other people’s pockets. Many accomplish more or less in this direction by dint of laborious effort and in spite of every attempt to elude them, but Geo. T. Angell stands out as an artist in this department. The slipping in of his hand is accom- panied by such an agreeable sensation that when thus engaged people crowd around him like children around a fond father engaged in a game of romps with them, shouting, ‘me next;”’ and the money thus won could hardly be applied to a worthier pur- pose. The dry statistics of achievement do not in any sense represent the measure of good work done. That must be sought in the growing sentiment that is ever contracting the field for repressive measures. We congratulate Geo. T. Angell on having found a field of labor so favorable to his own healthy devel- opment. It is pleasant to us to see success achieved by others working on the same lines as we and in kin- dred fields. The success of our big brother Fovest and Stream in creating a sentiment among sports- men in favor of game protection, the substitution of clay-pigeons for live birds at shooting matches, together with the rapid development of humane societies, are indications that a healthy sentiment is permeating all classes, and prophetic of success to be achieved in the field we have made exclusively our own. And this is a wide field. With us it is no mere plea for mercy to the creature under our con- trol. We found a people blindly believing that the birds which were given to man to be with him, were so many competitors with him for the fruits of the earth—standing between him and sole possession, and it is our chosen task to undermine this fatal delusion and guide the nation to the realization of the fact that all birds, each in its own way, perform functions so vitally essential to human well-being that our own best interests are involved in their con- tinuance. In consequence of the press of matter this month, both ‘‘Charley” and ‘“‘Byram and Ghopal” have had to stand over. As regards Byram and Ghopal, they are only casual acquaintances as yet and will not be much missed; moreover, they who are interested in them may be assured that they will have abundant opportunity to travel many a stage in company with them. As to Charley, he indulges in such extra- ordinary adventures that nobody knows what will be the end of him. He was all right at last accounts, and left us a couple of his journeys, which will be published as early as we have space for them. 142 The Audubon Society. THE AUDUBON SOCIETY FOR THE PROTEC- TION OF BIRDS. HE AUDUBON SOCIETY was founded in New York city in February, 1886. Its purpose is the protection of American birds, not used for food, from destruction for mer- cantile purposes. The magnitude of the evil with which the Society will cope, and the imperative need of the work which it proposes to accomplish, are outlined in the following state- ment concerning THE DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS. Within the last few years, the destruction of our birds has increased at a rate which is alarming. ‘his destruction now takes place on such a large scale as to seriously threaten the existence of a number of our most useful species, It is carried on chiefly by men and boys who sell the skins or plumage to be used for ornamenta purposes- principally for the trimming of women's hats, bonnets and clothing. These men kill every- thing that wears feathers. The birds of the woods, the birds of the field, the birds of the marsh and those of the sea are alike slain, at all times and at all seasons. It matters not if the bird be a useful one which devours the hurtful insects which destroy the farmer's crops, or a bright-plumaged song- ster whose advent has been welcomed in spring, and which has reared its brood in the door yard during the summer, or a swift-winged sea swallow whose flight along the shore has often with unerring certainty led the fisherman to his finny prey— whatever it be, it must be sacrificed to the bird butcher's lust for slaughter and for gain. Besides the actual destruction of the birds, their numbers are still further diminished by the practice of robbing their nests in the breeding season. Although it is impossible to get at the number of birds killed each year, some figures have been published which give an idea Of what the slaughter must be. We know that a single local taxidermist handles 30,000 bird skins in one year; thata single collector brought back from a three months trip 11,000 skins; that from one small district on Long Island about 70,000 lirds were brought to New York in four months time. In New York one firm fea on hand February 1, 1886, 200,000 skins. The supply is not limited by domestic consumption. Ameri- can bird skins aresent abroad, The great European markets draw their supplies from all over the world. In London there were sold in theca months from one auction room, 404,464 West Indian and Brazilian bird skins, and 56,389 East Indian birds. In Paris 100,000 African birds have been sold by one dealer in one year. One New York firm recently had a contract to supply 40,000 skins of American birds to one Paris firm. These figures tell their own story—but it is a story which might be known even without them; we may read it plainly enough in the silent hedges, once vocal with the morning songs of birds. and in the deserted fields where once bright plumage flashed in the sunlight. BIRDS, INSECTS AND CROPS, The food of our small birds consists very largely of the insects which feed on the plants grown by the farmer. These insects multiply with such astoundin rapidity that a single air may in the course of one season be the progenitors of six illions of their kind. All through the season at which this insect life is most active, the birds are constantly at work destroying for their young and for themselves, tens of thou- sands of hurtful creatures, which, but for them, would swarm upon the farmer's crops and lessen the results of his labors. A painstaking and ardent naturalist not very lon ago watched the nest of a pair of martins for sixteen hours, from 4 A. M. till 8 P. M., just to see how many visits the parent birds made to their young. He found that in that time 312 Visits to the four young were made, 119 by the male and 193 by the female. ff we suppose only six insects to have been Droshe at cach visit, this pair of birds would have destroyed, for their young alone, in this one summer's day, not far from 2,000 insects. The important relations which our birds bear to the agricultural interests and so to the general welfare, are recog= nized by the governments of all our States. Laws exist for their protection, but these laws are rendered inoperative by the lack of an intelligent public sentiment to support them, They are nowhere enforced, It is for the interest of every one that such a public sentiment should be created, It is time that this destruction were stopped. PURPOSE OF THE AUDUBON SOCIETY. To secure the protection of our birds by awakening a better sentiment, the Audubon Society, named after the greatest of American ornithologists, has been founded, The objects sought to be accomplished by this Society are to prevent as far as possible — (x) The killing of any wild bird not used for food, (2) Tlie taking or destroying of the eggs or nests of any wild birds, (3) The wearing of the feathers of wild birds, Ostric’s feathers, whether from wild or tame birds, and those of domes- tic fowls, are specially exempted. The Audubon Society aims especially to preserve those birds which are now practically without protection. Our pepe birds are already protected by law, and in large measure y public sentiment, and their care may be left to the sports- man. The great aim of the Society is the protection of American non-game birds, The English sparrow is not included in our lists, PLAN OF THE WORK. Obviously the Society cannot supply any machinery of com- pulsion to lead individuals and communities to a higher regard for bird life and to efforts for its protection. Nor are compulsory measures thought necessary. The wrong is toler- ated now only because of thoughtlessness and iedaerence The birds are hulled for millinery ;urposes. So long as fashion demands bird feathers, the birds will be slaughtered, The remedy is to be found in the awakening of a healthy pub- lic sentiment on the subject. If this enormous destruction of birds can once be put in its true light before the eyes of men and women and young folks, if interest be aroused and senti- ment created, the great wrong must cease. Toso present the case to the people as to awaken this corrective sentiment is the special sone contemplated by the Audubon Society. The methods adopted are very simple. Pledges are furnished, sub- scription to which constitutes membership, and certificates are issued to members. TERMS OF MEMBERSHIP. The signing of any o! the pledges will qualify one for mem- bership in the Society. It is earnestly desired that each mem- ber may sign all three of the pledges, Beyond the promise contained in the pledge no obligation nor responsibility is in- curred. There are no fees, nor dues, nor any expenses of any kind, There are no conditions as to age. The boys and girls are invited to take part in the work, for they can often do more than others to practically protect the nesting birds. All who are interested in the subject are invited to become mem- bers, and to urge their friends to join the Society. If each man, woman or child who reads this circular will exert his or her influence, it will not take long to enlist in the good work a great number of people aczively concerned in the protection of our birds. It is desired that members may be enrolled in every town and village throughout the land, so that by the moral weight of its influence this Society may check the slaughter of our beautiful songsters. The beneficent influence of the Audubon Society should be exerted in every remotest by-way where the songs of birds fill the air, and in every crowded city phere the plumes of slain songsters are worn as an article of ress, ASSOCIATE MEMBERS. As there are a very great number of people in full sympathy with the Audubon movement, and ready to lend it their moral support, but who refrain from joining the Society simply be- cause they find it distasteful to sign a pledge, it has been determined to forma class of Associate Members. ane one expressing his or her sympathy with the objects of the udu- bon Society and submitting a written request for membership to any local secretary, will be enrolled on the list of Associate Members. All such applications for membership received by local secretaries of the Society should be forwarded to the General Secretary for registration. LOCAL SECRETARIES, : The Society has local secretaries in cities, towns and villages. The local secretary will furnish this circular of information and pledge forms; will receive the signed pledges, i a list of the members, forward a duplicate list with the pledges for enrollment and file at the Society's office; and will receive in return certificates of meinbership, to be filled out and signed by the local secretary and given to the members. No certi~ ficate of membership will be issued to ony Pan except upon the receipt of a signed pledge at the o} fice of the Society. Where no local secretar 5 yet been appointed, individual applicants for membership may address the Society at its ce, No. 40 Park Row, New York. ae If there is no local secretary in your town, you are invited to act as such yourself, or to hand this to some other perso who will accept the office. Upon application we will supply copies of this circular and pledge forms. THE AUDUBON SOCIETY CERTIFICATE, : The Society furnishes to each member a handsome certificate of membership, This bears a portrait of the great naturalist, John James Audubon, atter whom the Society very appro- priately takes its name. Z The office of the Society is at 4o Park Row, New York city. All communications ehoulA be addressed THE AUDUBON SOCIETY, No. 40 Park Row, New York. Print Your Own Cards! PRESS $3, Circular size $8, Newspaper size $44. Type setting easy; printed directions, Send 2 stamps for list presses, type, etc., to factory, KELSEY & CO., Meriden, Conn, in ESTABLISHED 1852 OFFICES:CoR.FULTON& WILLIAMS NEW YORKG MEBRROTIE) + SKETCHING OUTFIT OF ALLKINDS DRAWING PAPET( CANVASDRUSHES O1bS3 MEDIUMS: MATHEMATICAL INSTRUMENTS |f HOUSE PAINTERS COLORS He ) 3 ‘ : Correspondence invifed- Catalogues ef our different departments TS responsible barties. “ eee S —. ee ; a 18 oe il ANTHONY & CO. 591 Broadway, N.Y. Manufacturers and Importers of PHOTOGRAPHIC + + INSTRUMENTS, Apparatus and Supplies OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, Sole proprietors of the Patent Detec- tive, Fairy, Novel and Bicycle Cameras, and the Celebrated Stan- = ley Dry Plates. \. Amateur Outfits in great variety from $9.00 upwards. Send for catalogue or call and examine. =" More than Forty Years Estab- lished in thts line of business. FOUR FIRST PREMIUM MEDALS AWARDED HUSBA N D i) EXHIBITIONS. More agreeable to the taste and smaller dose than other Magnesia. For sale at Druggists and Country Stores, in bottles only, with U. S. Govern- ment Registered Label attached, with- out which hone is genuine. And by T. fh HUSBAND, JR., Philadelpliia, Pa. The Universal Fashion Co.’s Cut Paper PATTERNS, for Ladies’ and Children’s Gar- ments, are acknowledged to be the best in existence. Correct styles and perfect fit. Ladies, send for a Catalogue of UNIVERS2 AL PATTERNS free to an address, or 15 cents for the ALBUM OF FASHIONS, a handsome folio book with over 1,000 illustrations and descriptions, UNIVERSAL FASHION COMPANY, 40 East 12th st., New York. AUDUBON MAGAZINE TUDE CLORS:- WATER ©LORS CRAYONS FRES(© ColORS: FINE VARNISHES | ADVERTISER. 143 A. J. Cammeyer, 16s, 167 & 169 SIXTH AVE., New York CIty. Cor. 12TH STREET, Achilles, the greatest warrior of the elder world, could only receive his death wound in his heel. Many men and women have died since his day by receiving their death blow also upon the foot, discovering all too late that this was a y part of the body. Wet feet, cold feet, hot and perspiring feet, are as dangerous to health and life as the wound that slew Achilles. protect them from the rapid and extreme changes of our Be wise in time and cover your feet properly, and climate. I have every sort and variety of Shoes for Men, Women and children, thus providing the amplest care, comfort, protection and safeguards for the feet in every necessity and emergency. Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Button Boots, $3.00 Per: Pain: Ladies’ Kid-Top, Straight Patent Leather Tip, Hand- sewed Welt Button Boots... 2. ..2sese--neee. $3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat Button Boots.. 3.0co Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Curacoa Kid Button Boots... 3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat, Foxed Kid- Top, Waukenphast Button ’Booten ne ere 3-00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Calf, Foxed Kid-Top, Wau- Kkenphasti button Dootssee se en een enna eee 3.00 These Shoes are especially designed to take the place of the highest grade custom work of the finest material and finish, and the best workmanship that can be produced. I do not hesitate to warrant them equal to any custom made that are sold from $6 to $7 per pair, and at almost half the price. They are made in every variety, shape and form, and it makes no difference what the preference may be, I can guarantee a per- fect fit and satisfaction in every instance. CANVAS SHOES. My stock of Canvas Shoes of every description for Ladies, Misses and Children is now complete, such as Lawn Tennis, Bicycle, Yachting, astonishingly low prices. I have tireless shoes for walkers, wing like slippers for dan- cers, dressy shoes for promenaders, low shoes for the comfort- loving ; ia fact every kind of foot covering for Men, Women and Children, «nd at prices much Icwer than the same quality and make of goods are sold for elsewhere. People out of town should send for Illustrated Catalogue, which is mailed free on application. Ay CAMMEYER, Sixth Avenue & Twelfth Street. and for all outdoor sporting purposes, at 144 AUDUBON MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. THE’ SCHCOL OF Hoy: Let the school of home be a good one. Let the reading at home be such as to quicken the mind for better reading still; for the school at home is progressive. The baby is to be read to. What shall mother and sister and father and brother read to the baby? BabyLanp. Babyland rhymes and jingles; great big letters and little thoughts and words out of BABYLAND. Pictures so easy to understand that baby quickly learns the meaning of light and shade, of distance, of tree, of cloud. The grass is green; the sky is blue; the flowers—are they red or yellow? That depends on mother’s house- plants. Baby sees in the picture what she sees in the home and out of the window. BaByLANbD, mother’s monthly picture- and-jingle primer for baby’s diversion, and baby’s mother-help. Babies are near enough alike. LAND fits them all; 50 cents a year. to D. Lothrop Company, Boston. One Bapy- Send What, when baby begins to read for her- self? Why Aerself and not Azmself? Turn about is fair play—If man means man and woman too, why shouldn't little girls in- clude the boys? Our Lirrte Men and WOMEN is an- other monthly made to go on with. Basy- LAND forms the reading habit. Think ofa baby with the reading habit! After a little she picks up the letters and wants to know what they mean. The jingles are jingles still; but the tales that lie below the jingles begin to ask questions. What do Jack and Jill go up the hill after water for? Isn't the water down hill? Baby is outgrowing BABYLAND. Our LirtLe Men anp WOMEN comes next. No more nonsense. ‘There is fun enough in sense. The world is full of in- teresting things; and, if they come to a growing child not in discouraging tangles but an easy one at a time, there is fun enough in getting hold of them. That is the way to grow. Our LirTLe MEN AND Women helps such growth as that. Begin- nings of things made easy by words and pictures; not too easy. The reading habit has got to another stage. You may send a dollar to D, Lothrop Company, Boston, for such a school as that for one year. Then comes THE Pansy with stories of child-life, tales of travel at home and abroad, adventure, history, old and new religion at home and over the seas, and roundabout tales on the International Sun- day School Lesson. Pansy the editor; THe Pansy the maga- zine. There are thousands and thousands of children and children of larger growth all over the country who know about Pansy the writer, and THE Pansy the magazine. There are thousands and thousands more who will be glad to know. Send to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, a dollar a year for THE PANsy. The reading habit is now pretty well es- tablished; not only the reading habit, but liking for useful reading; and useful read- ing leads to learning. Now comes WIDE AWAKE, vigorous, hearty, not to say heavy. No, it isn’t heavy, though full as it can be of practical help along the road to sober manhood and womanhood. Full as it can be? There is need of play as well as of work; and WipE AWAKE has its mixture of work and rest and play. ‘The work is all toward self-im- provement; so is the rest; and so is the play. Send D. Lothrop Company, Boston, $2.40 a year for WIDE AWAKE. Specimen copies of all the Lothrop mag- azines for fifteen cents; any one for five— in postage stamps. \ “ — ~ THE WOOD THRUSH (Zurdus mustelinus GMEL.) Tue AuDUBON MAGAZINE. \itors ae JOHN AUGUST, 1887. JAMES Vil. N September, 1828, the naturalist left London for Paris. One of his first acts on reaching that city was to call, in company with Swainson, on the great Cuvier, whose advice and recommendation were of the greatest service to him. He also met Geoffroy St. Hilaire. Cuvier’s report on Audubon’s work to the Academy of Sciences was extremely favorable—even laudatory. Coming from the pen of so learned a man, it carried the greatest pos- sible weight. Audubon soon found, how- ever, that the price of the work was so large that there was little hope of obtaining many subscribers in France. At the end of October, 1828, he returned to London, and settled down to a winter of hard work, during which he painted among other things the large picture of the eagle and the lamb, and the dogand pheasants. Mean- time the work on his plates had been going on without interruption. For some time, how- ever, his thoughts had been turned toward America, and in the early spring he decided to revisit this country, and after a long and stormy voyage in the packet ship Columbia he arrived in New York in April. Most of the summer and autumn was occupied in excursions to New Jersey and Pennsylvania for the purpose of studying the birds of the different regions, and then crossing the Alleghanies he went by steamboat to Louis- ville, where he saw his son Victor, and then No. 7 AUDUBON. to Bayou Sara, where his wife was. Here he remained until January, always busily occupied in studying the habits of birds, looking for new species, and making draw- ings of those birds and mammals which were needed to complete his series. His earnestness and energy excited the wonder of those to whom the delights of studying nature were unknown. Having made many needed additions to his collections, he began to think of returning to England to look after the progress of his work there. Early in January he started for Louisville, accom- panied by Mme. Audubon, and after a short stay there, went to Washington, where he met President Jackson and many other well- known men of the time. Stopping on the way at Baltimore and Philadelphia, he went on to New York, where he and his wife em- barked for England. In London he found his work progressing to his satisfaction, and learned that his subscription list had fallen away scarcely at all. There, too, he learned that he had been elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, an honor which he highly appreciated. Now money began to be needed to push on the work of engraving his plates, for some of his subscribers failed to pay their subscriptions promptly. Audubon, there- fore, had recourse once more to his facile pencil, and soon obtained the necessary funds. Then, with Mme. Audubon, he 148 started out to find new subscribers, and after visiting several English towns, finally arrived at Edinburgh, where they spent the winter. Soon after his arrival in Edinburgh, Audubon began the preparation of his “Orni- thological Biography of the Birds of Amer- ica.” In this he was somewhat at a dis- advantage, on account of his imperfect knowledge of English. He was fortunate enough to secure for assistance in this work the services of William MacGillivray of Edinburgh, a naturalist and anatomist fully qualified to correct the somewhat rough manuscript which Audubon turned over to him. The work went on through the winter, and by hard and unceasing effort the first volume was completed early in March, 1831, and was enthusiastically received. In September, 1831, Audubon returned once more to America; this time with the object of proceeding to the South and West, where he felt sure there were many varieties of birds wholly unknown to him. The winter he spent in East Florida, and late in the following summer, accompanied by Mme. Audubon and his two sons, he madea journey to Maine, of both of which excur- sions he has left most interesting accounts, which will be referred to later. In the autumn Audubon decided to send his son Victor to England to superintend the engraving of the “Birds,” and to look after his English interests, wishing himself to spend another year in America. That winter and the next summer Audu- bon spent in Boston working on old draw- ings, making sketches of new birds, and taking short excursions to the surround- ing country, the longest of which was to Labrador, a journey occupying three months. On his return, after resting in New York for three weeks, and sending thirty draw- ings to England, the indefatigable natural- ist started once more for Florida, taking with him Mme, Audubon and his son John Sohn Fames Audubon. In Philadelphia, instead of gaining subscrip- tions for his book, he was arrested for an old partnership debt, and had it not been for the kind offices of his friend, William Norris, he would have been imprisoned. This occurrence inspired him with some rather bitter reflections in regard to his former business transactions. After this unpleasant experience they journeyed slowly southward, stopping in Washington to try to arrange for Government aid in an expedi- tion to the Rocky Mountains, which he even then contemplated. He received but little encouragement from General Cass, then Secretary of War. Proceeding southward they reached Charleston, where they were hospitably received by the Rev. John Bach- man. ‘The expedition to Fiorida was for the time abandoned, and the winter was spent near Charleston. Then, owing to pressing letters from his son Victor, urging his return to England, Audubon journeyed north, and in April, 1834, with his wife and son John, he sailed from New York for Liverpool. There is very little of interest to record for some months after Audubon’s arrival in England. His time was spent in looking for subscribers to his book, and in work connected with it until the autumn of 1834, when he removed his family to Edinburgh, where they spent eighteen months, during which time Audubon was principally occupied in writing. After leaving Edinburgh the Audubon family settled in London, and there the naturalist left his wife and eldest son, while he with John returned to America to make his long deferred journey to the South. It was doubtless a great joy to Audubon to be once more in America, and he spent some months in visiting Boston, Philadelphia and Washington, and in renewing his acquaint- ance with his old friends, but the serious object of his journey was not forgotten, and the early autumn of 1836 found him in Charleston. He made short excursions to the neighboring sea islands and to Florida, The Wood Thrush. but owing to the Seminole war, which was then raging, he was unable to penetrate far into the interior of the country. Finally he left Charleston for Texas, with the ob- ject of exploring the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. It was during this winter spent in Charles- ton that his work on the “Quadrupeds of North America” was begun. The Texas ex- pedition, which occupied two months, was not particularly satisfactory, and was a great strain upon Audubon’s strength. He was THE Y far the sweetest songster among the B more familiar birds of our Northern forests is the Wood Thrush. His notes are few in number, but their wild, sweet melody is incomparably superior to that of our best known songsters. The metallic rattle of the bobolink is rich and pleasing, the sad quavering whistle of the meadowlark is very sweet, the pipe of the song sparrow and the twitter of the bluebird, first songs of spring, have a charm that is all their own, but none of these sounds, delightful though they be, can match the tones of the Wood Thrush, as with drooping wings, perched on one of the loftiest branches of some great tree, he salutes the rising or the setting sun. The Wood Thrush is usually regarded as a solitary bird, an inhabitant of the deep forests, where he dwells by himself. This idea, while it fits well enough with his sur- roundings in some cases, is not always true. The Thrush does prefer large forest trees, but is quite as much at home in open meadowy lands, where the trees stand far apart and there are wide stretches of lawn varied with clumps of undergrowth. In such localities the birds may often be found in abundance, and be seen and heard to great advantage. Although its summer range extends north to New England and to Canada West, the WOOD 149 glad to return to Charleston, where he rested for a short time, and then he again visited England. Only allowing himself a short time with his family, Audubon went to Edinburgh, where he once more devoted himself to work upon his “Ornithological Biography.” Hav- ing completed this work, which was pub- lished in May, 1839, he left Edinburgh for the last time, and with his family returned to New York, where the remainder of his days were spent. TERS SiH. Wood Thrush is rather a southern species, scarcely reaching the State of Maine. It is found as far west as Dakota and in eastern Kansas, and winters on the Gulf Coast and in Central America. It usually reaches the Middle States early in the month of May, making its appearance at about the same time as the catbird and the Baltimore oriole. At first it is a little shy about showing itself, and the observer is often first notified of its arrival by hearing its sweet notes in the early morning. Not long after its coming the mating takes place, and preparations for nest build- ing are begun. The chosen situation varies greatly. Sometimes the nest is placed high up on the stout limb of a towering forest tree, or again on one of the lower limbs of a young hemlock, or sometimes even on a slender sapling and not more than three or four feet from the ground, but whatever its position, it is always securely saddled either on a crotch or a large limb, so that its posi- tion is very firm, and there is but little danger of its being dislodged by the storms of summer. It is formed without of dried leaves, with small twigs and the stems of weeds. Upon this foundation is placed a mat of dried grass, and then a coating of mud, which, as in the case of the robin, is shaped by the bird's breast into a deep cup. 150 The Wood Thrush. The lining consists of fine black fibrous roots, which form a fine background to set off the four or five beautiful light blue eggs. When the nest is approached the parents manifest great distress, flying rapidly from branch to branch, and uttering a somewhat low guttural c/uck or guank. If the nest is visited frequently, however, they seem to become accustomed to the stranger, and at length receive his visits with equanimity. The Wood Thrush seems to have a great fancy for using in the construction of its nest bits of newspaper and white rags. These are worked into the foundation, and often the ends of the strips of cloth may hang down a foot or eighteen inches below the nest, and thus frequently lead to its dis- covery. A somewhat amusing instance of its fondness for building material of this description came under our notice some years ago. An old Irish serving woman had removed the lace border from her best cap, and after washing it, had spread it on the grass near the house to dry and bleach in the sun. A few hours later, when she went to get it, it was nowhere to be found, which seemed very mysterious, as none of the other clothes had been disturbed. The owner of the cap border concluded that it had been stolen, and was loud in her de- nunciations of the thieves who would take the property of a poor lone woman. These thieves were detected a few weeks later in a pair of Wood Thrushes, whose nest was found about sixty yards from the spot from which the article had been taken, Hang- ing from the foundation of the nest was the stolen cap border, which, after the young had left the nest, was restored to its owner, not at all the worse for its use as building material. The young of the Wood Thrush are fed almost wholly on insects, of which these birds must destroy a great many. The earth worm forms a considerable portion of their food, and the birds may frequently be seen hunting for these in the grass, precisely after the manner of the robin. Just as he does, the Wood Thrush hops a few steps, then pauses and stands for an instant, with his head cocked on one side, as if listening; then he gives a few vigorous digs at the ground with his sharp bill, and presently drags to the light a long worm, which he bears off in triumph to his hungry family. The young Wood Thrush is easily reared in confinement. He thrives on crumbs of bread or crackers soaked in milk, and on finely minced raw beef. Berries are accept- able to him, and he likes an occasional raisin. A pair that we once had in an avi- ary were the tamest of the thirty or forty birds in the large cage, and would often alight on head, arm or hand, as we were preparing the food or putting things in order. They were always on the watch for one operation, that of filling the water dishes. It often happened that while this was being done a little water would be spilled, and as it soaked into the sand on the floor and disappeared, the birds would fly down and peck at it very energetically, evi- dently thinking that because it moved it must be something alive. It was interest- ing to watch the progress made in music by one of these youngsters during his first win- ter. He began to sing during the late autumn, and at first his notes were a mere murmur, scarcely audible at a distance of a few feet. Gradually they became louder and more definite, though as yet not par- taking at all of the character of the Wood Thrush’s song, but toward spring his im- provement became much more rapid, and by the time the wild thrushes had returned he was really a very fair singer. All who have written about the Wood Thrush have been enthusiastic in praise of its song. This is heard chiefly in the early morning, up to 1o o'clock, and at evening just before sunset. It is not un- usual, however, to hear the songsters at any hour of the day in cloudy, damp weather; and during a rain storm, just before it clears he. ee ee A é Ooo Byram and Ghopatl. off, the woods are likely to be vocal with their sweet notes. The song continues from the time of their arrival in spring until the late summer, which is perhaps only another way of saying that it lasts through the breeding season. At the approach of autumn the families break up, and from this time on the birds are seen only singly. Now their diet un- dergoes a change, and they feed more on berries, those of the dogwood, the choke cherry and the juniper being favorites with them. When migrating, the Wood Thrush never moves in flocks. Each bird pursues its journey by itself, and all move deliberately southward, seeming to prefer to travel by short stages along hedgerows and through the woods rather than to take—at least dur- ing the hours of daylight—more extended flights. 151 destroys some useful insects, those which prey upon noxious species, but on the whole it is probable that the balance is in favor of this beautiful songster. Certainly, even if this were doubtful, his sweet voice should turn the scale in his favor, and he should be sedulously protected. The Wood Thrush is about 8 in. in length, and measures 13 across its extended wings. The tail is short and is composed of twelve feathers. The feathers of the head can be erected into aslight crest. The color above is a bright reddish brown, the tail and wings a little darker, and the rump inclining to olive. The eyes are surrounded by a whitish ring. The lower parts are white, thickly spotted, except on the throat, middle of the breast, belly and under tail coverts, with blackish brown. The bill is brown above and flesh color below, and the feet and legs flesh colored. The iris is dark The investigations of Professor S. A. brown. Our illustration is after Audubon’s Forbes have shown that the Wood Thrush plate. BYRAM AND GHOPAL. HE following morning the Faquirs arose betimes, and as there were numerous travelers at the Serai, it was not long before meat offerings and drink offer- ings were laid before Byram. Byram ate sparingly, but Ghopal, who had never had so well-spread a table, ate voraciously. After he had filled himself with bread and milk and rice, he was very skillful in finding corners for the dried dates; but all things earthly must come to an end, and so at last did Ghopal’s breakfast. As on the previous morning, there were poor women of low caste in waiting, who removed all that remained, and our travelers were abroad: betimes, making the round of the bazaar, where the news of their arrival had been published over night. The shop- keepers gave their coppers freely, but the bazaar was not a large one, and the whole collection barely reached one rupee (fifty cents). Near the outskirts of the town they heard a woman weeping bitterly, and Byram said, “Let us go in and inquire into this matter.” They entered the door, which led by a narrow passage into a small court yard, where a woman was sitting on a charpoy, weeping. “What ails thee, good woman?” asked Byram. “Alas, holy Faquir,” said she, “my hus- band is far away, and my only child is dead, and I have no money to buy wood to burn his body.’ “What caste are you?” asked Byram. “We are of the goldsmith caste, natives of the Bhagirathi Valley,” said the woman, 152 Byram and Ghopal. “and strangers here, and my man has been absent six months and I have no tidings of him ” “Have you no jewels?” asked Ghopal. “No, worthy Faquir,’’ said she, “the bunya has them all for my debt, and will not ad- vance half a rupee (twenty-five cents) for wood.” Then Byram took out a rupee from his girdle, and handed the woman, saying, “ Go and get wood and burn the child, and get food for thyself, and when that is done it may be thy husband will return.” “Oh, holy Faquir,” said the woman, “I cannot kiss thy feet, for thou hast none, but let me kiss the feet of him that bears thee about to deeds of mercy,” and she flung herself on the ground and would have kissed Ghopal’s feet, but Ghopal sprang backward, and Byram said: “Not so, good woman, go and burn thy child and give thanks to Brahma who sent aS Then they left the town and went on their way to the next town in silence. After they had traveled a mile or so, Byram asked: “What thinkest thou, Ghopal, of my char- ity to the woman? Was the rupee well ap- plied ?”’ “The money was thine,” said Ghopal, and I find no fault with the manner of its disposal.” ; “But supposing,” said Byram, ‘I had had no money but that on which thou hast a lien, what objection wouldst thou have raised in this case?” “The burning her child's body was a pious duty,” said Ghopal, “and I can find no fault with thy charity, but hadst thou sought to relieve her with the money on which I have a lien, the thought of my loss might have sharpened my wits.” Another mile or so was passed in silence, which was abruptly broken by Ghopal ask- ing, “Say, Byram. There must be a great many people in all India?” “About two hundred millions,” said By- ram. “ Most of them very poor ?”’ asked Ghopal. “Yes,” said Byram, “there are a great many very poor people.” “Quite a number of people must die every day?” “Yes—about twenty-five thousand peo- ple, old and young, die every day.” “And a great many of these leave wives or children or parents who, like the Sunari,* want money for wood to burn their dead?” “Every day’s sun sets on many troubled hearts,” said Byram. “Perhaps in all India there may have been five hundred such cases of distress as the poor Sunari’s this day?” “Tt is quite possible,” said Byram. “And to how many of these do you sup- pose Brahma sent a benevolent Faquir to relieve that distress?” Byram was silent a few moments, and then asked: “Say, Ghopal, how many people do you suppose there are in all India ready to devote their lives to Brahma, and apply their means to relieve the sufferings of his creatures ?”’ “Well, I suppose not a great many,” said Ghopal. * Goldsmith's wife. a ee : oe Byram and Ghopat. 153 “Do you suppose there is one for every case of distress that arises?” “] fear,” said Ghopal, “there are a hun- dred cases of distress for every person will- ing and able to relieve it.” “Consequently,” said Byram, “Brahma has not a messenger available for every case. If any man wants to devote himself to the relief of suffering, Brahma will direct him to the necessitous. If relief fails to reach all who are in distress, it is not be- cause Brahma lacks sympathy, but because he lacks messengers.” Again Ghopal plodded on in silence un- til they came to a little clump of acacia trees standing by a well, in a field, a short distance from the road. “Let us go in and get a drink of water and rest a little,” said Ghopal. “Good,” said Byram, and they went in, and the farmer and his men, who were at the well, hastened and set the charpoy for Byram; and they themselves with Ghopal sat on the ground and smoked a few whiffs from the hookah in turns. The conversation with the farmers was not very elevating; they asked the price of grain in distant towns, not because they wanted to know, but simply to make con- versation, and our travelers, having rested and refreshed themselves, proceeded on their journey. But scarcely had they gone a hundred paces, when, before reaching the high road, Byram called “Halt!’”’ with a suddenness which startled Ghopal, and filled him with a dread suspense; for the thought flashed through his mind that Byram must have dropped the money from his girdle. “You should look where you are going,” said Byram quietly, ‘you came very near treading on that worm there, a little in ad- vance to the right.” “Was that all?”’ said Ghopal. “All!” exclaimed Byram. ‘ What, think you, would my father’s pious act avail, if I could see with indifference another tread o on a worm, or if I had failed to arrest thy footsteps when thou wert in the very act of setting thy foot on a worm inadvert- ently?” “Thy father was doubtless a very pious man,” said Ghopal, pursuing his way, “but pardon me if I add that, in respect of the act which made thee dependent on me, his piety was too exalted. A worm, too, the meanest of all living creatures! Surely Brahma cares little for worms.” “Brahma gives evidence of his care for all his creatures, the least as well as the greatest, by providing food for them, and from every creature he exacts a service in return for his food. That Brahma cares for the worm is due simply to the benevolence of his disposition, but that man should care for the worm is a matter of moral obliga- tion, for the service which Brahma exacts from the worm is for man’s benefit, and is so important as to place us under deep obligations to these lowly creatures, which are certainly not mean if we measure them by the importance of their labors to human welfare.” “Human welfare!’ echoed Ghopal, “Why, what can an earthworm do for man! I yield the point freely as regards the white ants, they are intelligent little creatures, for although they cannot talk, they must have a great deal of sense to live in communities with king and queen and soldier and citizen classes, and orderly forms of social govern- ment. Besides, all that the white ant does for man is to eat timber, and that the worms, I am sure, cannot do.” “Nevertheless,” said Byram, “the worms are more immediately important to man than even the white ant. The soil prepared by these latter is the best soil for timber, but not stimulating enough for grass and grain; the soil created by the worms is, on the contrary, adapted to grass and grain crops.” “But how do the worms make soil?” said Ghopal. ‘They do not eat timber, and 154 Byram and Ghopal. the upper soil, as you showed me, is made of timber after transformation by the white ants.” “All good soil,” said Byram, “is made of animal and vegetable remains, mixed with the sand and clay of the earth. As long as the earth was covered with forest, the white ants and other creatures which prey on dead wood had the most important world’s work thrown on their shoulders, but when man cleared away the forest and began to culti- vate the plain, Brahma sent him the earth- worm to help him.” “Well,” said Ghopal, after a short pause, “what does the earthworm do?” “Tn the first place,” said Byram, “he eats the grass roots as fast as they decay, and all other animal and vegetable remains, which are buried in the soil, and what is left on the surface he himself buries, so as to make it dampand soft. In the next place he eats the soil itself along with the organic remains. There, look at that little pyramid,” continued Byram, directing Ghopal’s atten- tion to a worm’s casting about three inches high on the side of the road, “pick it up and examine it.”’ As Ghopal lifted it a worm rapidly wrig- gled out of it and disappeared in his hole, which was immediately below the casting. “Did you ever examine one before?” asked Byram, seeing Ghopal examining it curiously and in silence. “Never,” said Ghopal, “it is wonderful. Say now, Byram, did a worm make this?” “YVes,”’ said Byram, “not only did the worm you saw build this mound, and that within the last ten days, but all that earth has passed through his body in that period, mixed with as much vegetable and animal matter as he wanted for food. All the top soil passes through his stomach, as often as it gets mixed with enough undigested vege- table and animal matter to render it nutri- tious; and as the workers bring their cast- ings to the surface, where they soon get broken down, they are constantly covering up every leaf and blade of grass and dead insect that lies on the surface, and thus passing it through that first stage of slow decay which fits it for their digestive or- gans. If a farmer throws a load of half- rotted stable manure and straw on the land, it will take several years to decay, and then want twenty plowings to mix it thor- oughly with the earth, so that every blade of wheat would find equal nutriment; but the worms pass the whole through their stomachs in one season, and mix it far more intimately with the soil than man could do it. But that is not all. The animal and vegetable matters, after passing through the worm’s stomach, have a higher value as manure than they had before. Then you must consider, too, the number of worms which die every year and enrich the soil with their own bodies.” The discussion was continued over the whole journey, and now that Ghopal’s atten- tion was directed to the worms’ castings, he was astonished at their number, and the enormous importance of the work the worms were engaged in, but what astonished him most of all was that his eyes had so long rested on these castings without seeing them, or dreaming of the changes they wrought in the earth’s surface, or the im- portance of the worm’s labors to man. “ By the Holy Brahma,” said Ghopal, as they neared the end of their day’s journey, “but I begin to think that I, and not only I, but all the men I ever met, are fools. Tell, O Byram, how didst thou learn all these things? Did Brahma himself instruct thee?” “Yes, truly,” said Byram, ‘‘but not by word of mouth; for man’s ear is not attuned to the voice of Brahma that he should un- He gave us eyes to behold ’ derstand him. his creatures, and as much intelligence as_ enables me to conclude that everything that Brahma has created is for man’s bene- fit, if he had only understanding and 1n- sight to recognize it.” —_ — flints to Audubon Workers. At that moment Ghopal espied a wild bee’s hive, and coveted the honey, but as he had experience in robbing wild bees, he contented himself with longing. Presently he exclaimed, “O, wise Byram, dost thou verily assert that the bee’s sting is a benefit to man?” “The bee,” said Byram, ‘is most assur- edly a blessing to humanity, and his sting was not given him without a wise purpose.” “T do not doubt,” said Ghopal, “that the sting is very useful to the bees. It helps IBUIUIN| ais) EO) FIFTY COMMON BIRDS BOBOLINK ; REEDBIRD; RICEBIRD. HE bobolink, as he is known in the Northern States, is a black bird with a creamy buff patch on the back of his neck, and white blotches on*his shoulders and at the base of his tail. Seeing him for the first time people are struck with the fact that the light colors usually found on the breast are on his back, and say he looks as if his clothes were turned around. In the fall moult the bobolink loses his striking plumage, becoming yellowish-brown, like the female. In this condition he goes to the rice fields, where he is known as the ricebird. The bobolink is a meadow bird, living and nesting inthe grass. He has the labored flight of the meadowlark, but has not her habit of flying in a direct oblique line from the ground. When he soars he does it in a peculiar way, turning his wings down, so that from a distance he looks like an open umbrella. When he is getting ready to light in the grass, he puts them up sail fashion, and the umbrella seems to be turned inside out. Indeed, from the skillful way in which he uses his wings and * CopyYRIGHT, 1887, BY Florence A. MERRIAM. AUDUBON AND Ill. 159 them to defend their honey—but you said but a moment since that everything that Brahma had created is for man’s benefit. I will dispute that point with thee and chal- lenge thee to show any benefit which the bee’s sting has conferred or is likely to con fer on man.” “We are at the town now,” said Byram, “and the worm has given thee subject for reflection for one day. I will consider the subject of the bee’s sting and dispute with thee on the morrow.” WORKERS.* HOW TO KNOW THEM. tail to balance and steer himself, one might think he had been trained for an acrobat. The bobolink sings in the grass, and on low trees and bushes, but his most animated song is given on the wing. On page 9 of Thoreau’s “ Summer,” and page 102-104 of Burroughs’ “Birds and Poets,” you will find interesting descriptions of the bobolink’s song, which, as Mr. Bur- roughs says, varies somewhat according to locality. The most exuberantly happy of all our birds, he seems to contain the essence of all the summer joy and sunshine. ‘“ Bodo- linkum-linkum-dea-dea-dea”’ he warbles away, the notes fairly tumbling over each other as they pour out of his throat. Up from the midst of the buttercups and daisies he starts, flies along a little way, and sings this joyous jubilate with such light-hearted fervor that he is glad to sink down on the stem of some sturdy young timothy before giving his last burst of song. BELTED KINGFISHER. If you are in the vicinity of a river or stream at any time, and think you hear an alarm clock going off, you want to look 156 about for a kingfisher. He is the most marked of the trillers, having a loud, rapid call that, as Mr, Burroughs so aptly ex- presses it, suggests an alarm. Thoreau spells it out as “¢r-r-ack-cr-r-ack.” He is generally on the wing as he makes it, and if you look up in time, you will see a large, ungainly, navy blue bird, with a white collar,a heavy, crested head, and such a short tail that you wonder what makes him fly so queerly—his wings seem to be too far back. But if he lights on a dead stub by the water, so that you can see his compact, oily plumage, so well adapted to cold plunges, you will think him a very handsome fellow in spite of the fact that he is topheavy. He sits like the flycatchers, but without any of their nervousness, and watches the unsuspecting fish that are com- ing toward the surface. Before they know what has happened they are in his great bill, wriggling about helplessly, as he flies through the air back to the stub where he will devour them at his leisure. In Thoreau’s “Summer,” under the date of June 12, is a careful description of this fishing habit. He says: “Scared a kingfisher on a bough over Walden. As he flew off, he hovered two or three times thirty or forty feet above the pond, and at last dove and apparently caught a fish, with which he flew off low over the water to a tree.” He generally builds his nest in holes along the banks of rivers and streams, and the eggs are a beautiful ivory white. As the kingfisher spends most of his time on the wing, his feet are small and weak. Mr. Burroughs says of him: “The halcyon or kingfisher is a good guide when you go to the woods. He will not insure smooth water or fair weather, but he knows every stream and lake like a book, and will take you to the wildest and most unfrequented places. Follow his rattle and you shall see the course of every trout and salmon stream on the continent. * * * His time is the time of the trout, too ’ flints to Audubon Workers. namely, from April to September. He makes his subterranean nest in the bank of some favorite stream, and then goes on long excursions up and down and over woods and mountains to all the waters within reach, always fishing alone, the true angler that he is, his fellow keeping far ahead or be- hind, or taking the other branch. He loves the sound of a waterfall, and will sit a long time on a dry limb overhanging the pool below it, and, forgetting his occupation, brood over his own memories and fancies.” OVENBIRD; GOLDEN-CROWNED THRUSH. Another form of the trill is given by the ovenbird. It has not the peculiar “alarm” quality of the kingfisher’s cry, but is very loud and rapid. Mr. Burroughs has aptly described it by the word ¢each-er. It seems to beat upon the air as it grows louder and louder, increasing in intensity, volume and rapidity untilthe end. Mr. Bicknell speaks of it very happily, and at the same time describes the rarer song of the bird. He says: ‘The ordinary song of the ovenbird, but for its inseparable association with the quiet recesses of summer woods, would certainly seem to us monotonous and com- monplace; and the bird's persistent reitera- tion of this plain song might well lead us to believe that it had no higher vocal capa- bility. But it is now well known that, on occasion, as if sudden emotion carried it beyond the restrictions that ordinarily beset its expression, it bursts forth with a wild outpouring of intricate and melodious song. This song is produced on the wing, oftenest when the spell of evening is coming over the woods. Sometimes it may be heard as an outburst of vesper melody carried above the foliage of the shadowy forest and de- scending and dying away with the waning twilight.” Mr. Bicknell speaks only of the two dis- tinct songs, but I have heard the two com- bined. The outbreak of high, rapid, con- fused notes being interlarded with the » ar Flints to Audubon Workers. 157 low-pitched conversational trilling teach’er, teach'er. By increasing the confusion, this adds greatly to the effect of excitement spoken of by Mr. Bicknell. Though most common at evening or in the night, I have frequently heard this medley in both morn- ing and afternoon. The rhythm and volume of this interest- ing song in its simplest form may be sug- gested by the syllables whee’he, whee'he, whee' ha, he'he'ha, increasing in volume to- ward the middle and diminishing in inten- sity again at the close, unlike the ordinary trill. Ordinarily the trill is the clue that helps you in looking for the ovenbird. When you hear it close at hand, and you fail to see him on a tree, look about carefully on the ground among the bushes; and if you see a bird, the size of the white-throated sparrow, walking, scratching like a hen among the dead leaves, or tossing them aside with his bill, you may be quite sure that you have found your friend. On closer inspection he proves to have an olive-green back and a white breast, spotted thickly like a thrush’s. His crown is orange-brown and has two black stripes converging to- ward the bill. This, however, is generally obscure. The house of the ovenbird, from which he gets his name, varies in style of roofing, but the commonest type of architecture may well be represented by the first nest I ever found. It was a bright morning in June, and while walking through the edge of a grove of young maples, a brown shadow started up from under my feet and disap- peared in the woods. On looking down I saw, by the side of a blooming Solomon’s seal, what at the first glance seemed to be a bunch of dry leaves—one of the thousand that are pushed up by mice, or the crowd- ing spring flowers, and that you flatten down every few steps in an undergrowth woods. The hint given by the fleeting shadow, however, could not be ignored, and I stooped down to examine the bunch. I felt it over eagerly—one, two, three sides, no opening; the fourth, my fingers slipped in—it was the famous ovenbird’s nest that I had been looking for ever since I was a child. In an instant I was on my hands and knees peering into the mysterious hole. How interesting! ‘There lay five exquisite little eggs, their irregular brown speckles centering in a crown about the larger end. What a wonderful architect the little crea- ture seemed! Her snug house had an arched roof lined so smoothly with soft dry leaves as to suggest a fretwork ceil- ing. What a tiny palace of beauty the golden-crowned queen of the thrushes had made! What mystery that bunch of leaves contained! The little brown lady might have been sitting at the mouth of a fairy cave. The next day three of the eggs were hatched, and such absurd looking little tings might well have been taken for bird gnomes. They seemed all mouth and eyeball. Little red appendages took the place of wings, and tufts of gray down on the skin covering the eyeballs answered for a coat of feathers. Even when they were feebly throwing up their heads and opening their great yellow throats for worms, their eyes were closed fast, giving them an un- canny appearance. The same day I had the good fortune to stumble upon another nest. This was of substantially the same character, though built more of fine roots. visits to the first brood, and when the little ones had flown, found to my surprise that the grass around the mouth of the nest had been pulled together, so as to leave only a round hole just large enough for the bird to goin and out. Why had this been done? For some time I was quite at a loss to ac- count for it, but I had noticed from the outset that this bird acted differently from any mother ovenbirds I had ever seen. During all my visits to her nest I had never known her to utter a syllable or I made several 158 come near me, while the others had always smacked their bills incessantly and flown about in the most distraught manner. Now, could this have been from superior intelli- gence, and bad she taken this surer method, as she supposed, for protecting the young from the danger of my inspection? The most terrified ovenbird that I have ever seen I found on the hillside of a dense portion of the same woods. She began her suspicious smacking as soon as we came in sight, but although we hunted for the nest very carefully we could not find a trace of it. We sat down on a log and waited for her to show it to us, but that did no good. She confined herself to a radius of about three rods, but selecting saplings at extreme points would fly from one to the other, in- specting us anxiously; all the while wag- ging her tail nervously up and down and keeping up a monotonous smacking. Find- ing her as incorrigible as the mosquitoes, and realizing the approach of the dinner hour, my friend and I decided to start for home. But in our case the gods fa- vored the cowardly, for as we were brand- ishing our maple twigs in the faces of the pursuing punkies and mosquitoes, we sud- denly started up the little family we had been hunting for. They ran out from among the leaves under our feet and scud- ded off in all directions. My two dogs started after them, and in the rush and scramble that followed we had all we could In the midst of the confusion the terrified mother bird flew down on the ground and began trailing in the most pitifully excited manner. She spread out her wings and tail, dragging them along the ground as if she were quite helpless. But finding that we would not accept that decoy, and seeing that her little ones had hidden away under the leaves, she tried another plan; and walked once slowly back and forth for about a rod on the side away from her young. As the dogs were perfectly quiet now, and we had do to save the little creatures’ lives. Hints to Audubon Workers. not moved since the first alarm, she then made a detour and risked an examination of the place where the little birds had dis- appeared. By this time, having seen what we wanted, and feeling that we had given the poor mother enough anxiety for one day, we left her to gather her children to- gether again. In watching the ovenbird I have been surprised to find how irregular individuals are in their time of nesting. On June rr I found a family of full-grown young being fed in the branches of a maple tree. The same day I found a nest full of eggs. June r2 three of these eggs hatched, and I found a nest of young a quarter grown. June 13 I found the little family that I have just described well out of their nest. These could hardly have been first and second broods, as they were in all stages of de- velopment. This same difference I have since found in the nesting of robins, vireos, chipping birds, song sparrows, and others. DeKay speaks of the ovenbird as a shy, solitary bird, but I have found it anything but shy. In the spring it sings fearlessly wherever I meet it, and on June 29 one came within fifteen feet of me looking for worms for her young. She inspected me carefully when she caught sight of me, and then flew up on the sapling where the little bird was, fed it and flew off to an adjoining tree, where she scraped her bill in the most unconcerned manner. The young resemble their mother in gen- eral appearance, but their heads are lighter, and their backs are speckled as well as their breasts. SCARLET TANAGER. The scarlet tanager and the rose-breasted grosbeak are both exceptions to the general rule that brilliantly-plumaged birds have little song. No burning coal could have more intensity of color than the full-plum- aged male in summer. He literally dazzles one’s eyes. And still he has a loud song The Trade in Bird Skins. resembling that of the grosbeak, although it is not so sweet. It isa harsh guttural kree-kree-eah in rhythm suggesting, as it has been aptly expressed, the swinging of a pendulum. His call is a loud chuck-ah, or, as Mr. Bicknell gives it, chip-chir. It may be an interesting example of the law of natural selection that during the nesting season the plumage of the female is the complemental color of that of the male —olive-green above, and greenish- yellow below. How could she ever live with such a fiery husband if her eyes did not find relief in her own coloring? Even then, it would seem that her eyes had to be accustomed by degrees, for in his youth her gay cavalier is relieved by green, yel- low and black, the colors he returns to every fall in his adult stage. The tanagers nest in trees, and lay four or five dark- speckled eggs. ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK, The full-plumaged male grosbeak is a bird that you will recognize anywhere. He is almost as large as a robin. His head, 159 neck and back are black; and a patch of exquisite rose or carmine stands out bril- liantly against the black of the throat to which it is joined, and the white of the breast in which it is set. When he flies he shows white blotches on his tail, and car- mine under his wings. His wife is as good a foil to htm as the plain little purple finch is to her handsome husband. She looks decidedly like a spar- row, and has patches of saffron-yellow un- der her wings, where the male has carmine. They both have equally heavy finch bills. His is yellow, and he scrapes it on the side of a branch as a man would sharpen a knife on a whetstone—first on one side and then the other. The song of the grosbeak is loud, clear, and sweet, with a rhythm like the tanager’s, but longer, and the rough edges rounded off. It has the oriole quality. His call is as characteristic as the chif-chir is of the tanager. It is a thin, unsteady 4zck, and generally prefaces his song.. He is found in lower trees and more open ground than the tanager. A ISLI8, AUR AID TEIN E do not attach very much import- ance to figures, for we can judge for ourselves in the streets and shops of London, Paris, New York, and other large cities and towns, what must be the sacrifice of bird life; nevertheless we give a few items derived from various authentic sources. Between December, 1884, and April, 1885, there were sold in one London auction room 6,228 birds of Paradise, 4,974 Impeyan pheasants, 770 argus (Monal), 404,464 West Indian and Brazil birds, 356,389 East Indian birds, besides kingfishers, parrots, bronze doves, fruit-eating pigeons, jays, rollers, regent bird, tanagers, creepers, chats, black partridges, golden orioles, pheasants, etc.; BEERS Di SikeiNGS. and various odds and ends such as ducks’ heads, toucans’ breasts, and sundry nests. “Wanted 1,000 dozen seagulls” (Adv., Cork Constitution). “Wanted 10,000 pairs jays’, stirlings’ and other wings.” From America we get the following: A Broadway dealer says, ‘‘We buy from 500,000 to 1,000,000 small American birds every year. Native birds are very cheap.” Concerning terns Mr. Dutcher says, “3,000 were killed at Seaford, L. I., and 40,000 at Cape Cod in one season.” One taxidermist prepares 30,000 skins for hats and bonnets every season. Maryland sent 50,000 birds, many being Baltimore orioles, to Paris for a single season; a New York taxidermist con- 160 tracts for 300 skins a day, for his trade with France; Ohio Valley, 5,000 skins. We might add pages of such facts. It is rather the fashion in England to say that these American figures are of no interest. But most of the birds are killed in America ina great measure for export to England, and thus the destruction of bird life is kept up CHARLEY’S ct OT you at last,” exclaimed Charley, as he felt a vigorous pull at his line. The fish only jerked out a yard or two of line and then stopped. Charley was afraid it had got away when he began to reel up without feeling any strain, but the fish was only swimming toward the boat, and when Charley had reeled in short he saw the fish alongside and lifted it into the boat, when it let go and dropped quietly into the bot- tom. Charley examined the hook—the worm was all right, so he made another cast. He fished away so long without even get- ting a nibble that at last he got tired, and nearly lost all patience. Every now and then he lifted the hook to see if the bait was gone, but the worm was all right “You'll never catch a nice fish with that horrid little worm,” said a voice behind him. “Why, I caught you with it,” said Charley, looking around, somewhat surprised. “Me!” said the mermaid, for it was a mermaid sitting on the stern seat. “You don’t suppose I put that nasty dirty worm in my mouth, do you? I only took hold of the line and let you lift me in, because I was tired of the water so cold and damp, and wanted to come into the boat with you for company.” “Oh, well, I didn’t know,” said Charley, “but what else can we get for bait? I have nothing but earthworms.” “Fish would be better,”’ said she. WONDERFUL Charley's Wonderful Journey. by English women. Existence to the Balti- more oriole and our robin redbreast is equally enjoyable, why cut it short? A bird-skin stuffed, wired, and supplied with eyes, lasts a few weeks and is then thrown aside as “out of fashion.’’ The excuse for taking a life is, indeed, mean and paltry.— Selborne Society Letters. JOURNEY. “Yes, but I can’t get one,” said Charley. “T'll tell you what,” said the mermaid. “You just help me off with my tail. I don’t want it any more now, and that will do to catch a big one.” She showed Charley how to lay hold of the tail, then she held on to the seat, and they tugged and tugged until the tail came off like a boot, and set free her pretty little feet. Then she jumped down and helped Char- ley to bait the hook, and dropped it over- board and let it drift down with the current. After a while something came and took the bait, and the reel began to go round like mad. It was a long line, there must have been more than a mile of it. “Give him the butt,’”’ said the mermaid, when the line was nearly all run out. “O, Charley, whatever you do give him the butt.” Charley's Wonderful Journey. Charley did as she told him, and the boat began to glide through the water like an arrow. “Oh, my, isn’t this fun,” said the mer- maid. “Just look at the banks how they are flying by, I am sure we must be going a hundred miles an hour.” Charley looked first at one bank and then at the other, but both banks were far away; 161 it was impossible to tell. “He'll get tired by and by,” said she. “Now Charley,” cried she at last, “wind in as fast as you can, the whale has stopped for breath and the boat will soon be up to him. a harpoon into him,” continued she as the boat came right up alongside of the whale. Charley did as he was told, and as he Now give me the rod while you throw and when he looked again he could see neither bank—they were far out at sea. **T think it must be a whale,” said Char- ley. “Tt’s very like a whale,” said the mermaid. By this time the fish was a mile ahead, going like mad, but Charley knew what he was about and gave him the butt all the time. The mermaid came and sat down by him, and how long they were flying over the sea threw the harpoon with all his might it went right into the whale, which started off again like lightning. When the whale got tired and let the boat come up close again Charley gave him another harpoon, and this he kept on doing until the whale refused to budge. “He is as dead as a barn door nail,” said the mer- maid. “Tsa barn door nail deader than any other nail?” asked Charley. 162 “Ts this a moment for idle conundrums?” “We have a long way to goand a great deal to do yet, better wind in the line while I steer around him until we come to his jaws.” So Charley kept winding in the line, and the mermaid steered along the coast until they came to a great cavern in the bank. “Here we are,” said she. “We'll drop anchor here in the bottom of the cavern and take in cargo. The black is the whalebone and the white is the ivory, and we must try to get it all on board.” As soon as they had it all on board the mermaid set the sails and away they went. “ Where shall we go next ?”’ said Charley. “Why, to the islands, of course,” said the mermaid. “What would be the good of the whalebone and the ivory unless we traded it away?” ’ So they sailed away until they came to the first island, and the natives came down to the shore and traded a cargo of cocoa- nuts for the whalebone and ivory, and once more the mermaid up sail and away. “Where next?” said Charley. “Oh, we'll go to another island and trade away the cocoanuts,” said she, “there's al- ways something to be made by trade.” “Tf you're tired,’ continued she, “lie down and go to sleep.’ Charley lay down and dreamily watched the mermaid standing in the stern and steer- ing the boat, which dashed along at a rapid rate over the waves. Then he began to noa, and was just fall- ing off to sleep when he was startled by hearing some one say “Git.” When he looked up it was not tne mer- maid who was steering at all. It was Aunt asked the mermaid, reproachfully. Charley's Wonderful Journey. Maria. It wasn’t a boat either, but Aunt Maria’s rockaway, and there was Cousin Bob lying asleep on a bundle of rugs. Charley tried to wake him, but it was no good, Bob only rolled over and wouldn't wake. “Where are we going, Aunt Maria?” asked Charley. “Why, we're going home, of course,” said Aunt Maria. “Git. If this old horse wasn’t so lazy we would be there now. Better go to sleep again.”’ Charley fell asleep again, and when at last he awoke in the morning it was broad daylight, and this time he really was sur- prised—he was in his own chamber, and there was Bob lying asleep alongside of him. Charley shook him a bit to wake him, but Bob only rolled on his other side just as he did in the rockaway, but the next moment he opened his eyes, remembered where he was, sat up in bed and looking at Charley said, ‘“ Hello.” “Hello,” replied Charley, “how did you come here? Didn't you come home in the rockaway with me last night?” “Oh, what a story,” said Bob, ‘you wasn’t in the rockaway at all, you was asleep in bed when we came.”’ “That’s bad grammar,” said Charley, “anyhow.” “T don’t care if it is,” said Bob; “bad grammar isn’t so bad as telling lies.” “I'm not telling lies,” said Charley, “I am only telling what happened when I was asleep,” and he told Bob how he caught the mermaid. Bob only laughed, and when Charley told him how he baited with the mermaid s tail and caught a whale, Bob said “ Git,” You call them tnieves and pillagers, but know They are the winged warders of your farms, Who from the cornfields drive the insidious foe, And from your harvest keep a hundred harms. LonGFELLow, Birds of Killingworth. BIRDS AS FERTILIZERS. ROFESSOR BROWN, in his examina- tion before the Agricultural Commis- sion of Ontario (1881) on the profits of raising beef cattle for market, stated that the class of cattle he raised for market realized $88 at twenty-nine months old, the cost of food consumed at market prices being $147. At thirty-six months the beasts were worth $103, the costs being $184, showing an apparent loss of $59 at the lower, and of $81 at the greater age. The Professor nevertheless maintained that the value of the manure converted the apparent loss into a real gain. The cattle realize abont sixty per cent. on costs of their food, and the manure is roughly estimated at an- other sixty per cent., showing a net profit of twenty per cent. But as a matter of fact, the manure is worth more than the cost of the food con- sumed in producing it. Locate two farm- ers, on moderately fertile farms, alike in condition. Let the one keep no stock and let the other keep his farm well stocked with cattle, which he allows to grow old and die from year to year without seeking any direct return from them. In a few years the first farmer’s land will be exhausted and cease to yield any remunerative returns for his labor, while the second’s will steadily in- crease in value, the extra crop due to the manure being always in excess of that con- sumed in producing it. Every living creature—every plant—re- turns more to the soil than it takes from it, and when it is considered that birds are making manure all the year round, that their manure is richer than that of cattle, that they require no care, that they dress the land themselves, and tax the farmer for less than ten per cent. of the food they con- sume, there is no escape from the conclu- sion that it is far more profitable to keep birds than cattle. Every bird yields a profit to the farmer; the one great trouble is that there are not enough of them, the other trouble is that the farmer’s eyes are closed to the facts. When it is a question of food consumed in the ripening grain fields, the birds are credited with enormous capacities of consumption, but when it becomes a question of the value of the manure re- turned to the land, the farmers are inclined to pooh-pooh the labors of the birds in this direction as of no consequence, never con- sidering that the measure of their voracity at harvest time, when they engage the farmer’s attention, is also the measure of their returns to the soil, and the true stan- dard by which to measure the value of their returns all the year round. It is profitable to keep stock and feed it all the year round for the sake of the manure; how much more so to keep birds which are fed by the farmer only about one month in the year, and which, during the remainder of the year, or as much of it as they remain with us, feed on the farmer’s enemies, weed seeds and insects, keeping both in check, and rendering them in their turn beneficial by converting their substance—all that they have taken from the soil and atmosphere— into organic food, whichis easily assimilated by future crops. Life on earth began with those low types which were independent of pre-existent or- ganized food; that is, with plants or ani- mals or life types not easily assignable to either kingdom, which were capable of assimilating their substance directly from the unorganized elements—carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen, with or without nitrogen. Man and the higher animals cannot draw subsistence from air and water, they must have food already organized, and it is only by the constant succession of life and death beginning with these lowest life types which are capable of assimilating their food from the elements direct, that the soil of the earth is fitted for the support of higher life types. ie g Welsh FIGHT BETWEEN SNAKE AND BIRD. THE following curious story is taken from a Cali- fornia newspaper. The bird mentioned is no doubt the small southwestern shrike, a variety of Co/lyz10 ludowicianus: “Edward Perry, of this city, while near Florence on Wednesday, witnessed a prolonged fight between a small butcher bird (about the size of a mocking- bird), and a spotted snake about three feet long. Mr. Perry came upon the combatants, how long after the fight began he did not know, but witnessed its conclusion at the end of an hour. The snake would coil up and strike at him, but without effect. Then the bird would dart at the reptile and strike it on some part of the body, Then the snake would raise its head several inches and keep its forked tongue in motion back and forth for a full minute, This was the bird’s opportunity, and he profited by striking the snake on ‘the body. Twice the bird went to a small stream and took a drink, returning to the contest with renewed vigor. At last the snake grew weary, and a sudden dart by the bird at its head caused the loss of an eye. The snake then for the first time tried to get away and writhed in pain. Soon the bird saw another chance, and this time knocked out the other eye. When the bird discovered that his victory was complete it went away, when Mr. Perry went to the snake and saw that its eyes were out.” MEMBERSHIP RETURNS. THE total registered membership at close of June was 36,024, showing an increase of 3,354 members, during the month from the following sources: Minnesota....... és BE GMAXEASRS Peep wecciey es eee Connecticut .. AE UNENtUCKY 2.02 cieciccsscren Missoni. .5, so: -.» 24 Rhode Island... 20 New Hampshire DARINB lois sic chaespieh rece 30 Wisconsin. Varga, cap ype araaae x Canada ... E Maryland .. rH SOUDEIANG cess vs sec cuas cee Colorado, .i/-cssastecstens 4 3,354 While most of the States display some relaxation of activity, as is to be expected at this season of the year, it is remarkable that during the month both New York and Massachusetts attain their greatest AUDUBON -NOTE BOOK. development, a result due entirely to the well-planned efforts of one local secretary in each State. The increase in Massachusetts is confined almost entirely to New Bedford, whose popular local secre- tary, Mr. Edmund Rodman, visited the schools and addressed the young people, in whom he excited an almost universal interest in the question of bird pro- tection. By this means too he succeeded in reach- ing the parents, many of whom were persuaded by their children to join the Society. In New York State there have been many workers operating with more or less success, but it is due en- tirely to the organized operations of the local secre- tary of South Brooklyn, Mrs. John Duer, that the Empire State held its lead. Like Mr. Rodman, Mrs. Duer too has been at work among the young people, and not contented with enlisting them has selected from among them a band of assistants, whom she has organized for efficient action, swelling the New York returns by several hundred. These results have a deep significance; they point unerringly to the conclusion that our young people are easily interested in the question of bird protection and easily brought into sympathy with the aims of the Audubon Society. What has been done in New Bedford and Brooklyn during the last month may be done anywhere and everywhere throughout the length and breadth of the land. We want only workers. C. F. Amery, General Secretary. LOCAL BIRD NOMENCLATURE, A VALUED correspondent of the AUDUBON MAGA- ZINE, who is engaged in the study of birds, desires to make some investigations as to the local names given to a number of our most common species. Our readers will remember that in the sketch of the golden-winged woodpecker or flicker, which we printed in our June number, a list of thirty-six Eng- lish names applied to this species in various sections of the country was given. Probably few birds have so many names as this, but almost all have several, and to Jearn what these are and record them is the purpose of our correspondent. It is hoped and requested that our readers will carefully peruse the list which we give below, and will take off the names of the birds which they re- cognize, and adding any other names by which these may be known to them, will severally send us their list, marking it at the top ‘‘Local Bird Nomencla- ture,” and sign it with the full name and address of the locality from which the list comes, giving town, —— a county and State. The Audubon Note Book. 165 These lists wili be duly forwarded to our correspondent for comparison and study, and full credit for all assistance will be given in the re- sults of the investigation, which will be published later. The following is the list of the common birds, whose local names are desired: Robin. Bluebird. Crow Blackbird. Song Sparrow. Chipping Sparrow. Field Sparrow. Fox Sparrow. Swamp Sparrow. White-throated Sparrow. Tree Sparrow. White-crowned Sparrow. Savannah Sparrow. Phoebe. Least Flycatcher. Great-crested Flycatcher. Wood Pewee. Meadowlark. Chickadee. Butcherbird. Bluejay. Chimney Swift. Oriole. Catbird. Cuckoo. Chewink. Barn Swallow. Eave Swallow. Bank Swallow. Kinglet. Wood Thrush. Wilson’s Thrush. Hermit Thrush. Ovenbird. Thrasher. Cowbird. Kingbird. Bobolink. Scarlet Tanager. Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Pine Bullfinch. Purple Finch. Goldfinch. Red-winged Blackbird. Red-headed Woodpecker. Yellow - bellied | Wood- pecker. Hairy Woodpecker. Downy Woodpecker. Nuthatch. Indigo Bird. Red-eyed Vireo. White-eyed Vireo. Warbling Vireo. Yellow-bellied Vireo. Yellow-throated Vireo. Maryland Yellowthroat. Redstart. Mourning Warbler. Blackburnian Warbler. Yellow-rumped Warbler. Yellow redpoll Warbler. Black-throated blue War- bler. Blue yellow-backed War- bier. Chestnut-sided Warbler. Black-throated Green Warbler Brown Creeper. Black and white Creeper. Summer Yellowbird. Junco. Crow. Crossbill. Purple Martin. Hummingbird. Waxwing. Partridge. Woodcock. Horned Lark. Orchard Oriole. Marsh Hawk. Goshawk. Pigeon Hawk. Snow Bunting. Whippoorwill. SINCE our article on hawks and owls appeared in the April MAGAzINE, Pennsylvania has decided not to prove an instructive example for the rest of the Union to profit by, and has repealed the law offering bounties for the destruction of rapacious birds. Happily there is no lack of the spirit of ignorant self-sacrifice, and New Jersey is paying such bounties for the destruction of its hawks and crows, that a poor farmer might make a very good living at shooting them while they last. After they have been annihilated a year or two the results promise to be very instructive. P) THE EDITOR’S TALK. A CORRESPONDENT from Hare's Valley, Pa., wants to know how our Northern birds spend their winter in the South; if they sing and fly about, make nests and rear their young, and generally demean them- selves as they do with us. Well, no; not exactly. When the birds come North in the spring they are full of life and hope and love, which in the males finds expression in song. Males and females work together to one common end, and happy in each other’s love and devotion, their heart full of gladness and their heads full of dreamy anticipations, their lives are glorified. Then come the cares of raising a family, the wearing pro- cess of sitting, the necessity of providing food for their young, which, wearisome at the outset, taxes their powers more and more every day, until what with the excessive strain ypon their physical powers, and the wearing anxiety caused by impending dan- ger to their young, they become so thoroughly worn out that the glory is gone out of their lives, the well- spring of their affections dried up; they care no more for their wearisome young ones which show no return of affection, no appreciation of the sacrifices made for them. They endure rather than long for each other's presence, and in this exhausted condition they go off South. They have no more ideal views of life, they want only food and rest to recuperate. Here their lives are more or less harassed by men and other foes, which make great gaps in their ranks, but those which escape gradually get into good con- dition, and as they once more wing their way north- ward their whole frames tremble with the exquisite joys of love and hope. The young birds see life through a glorified atmosphere, and the old. forget their experiences and renew their youth. ONE of the Albany papers publishes a story of a young swallow which having broken its leg had it bandaged with horsehair by the parent birds. I would believe the story if possible, but am disposed to the general view that a swallow sufficiently intelli- gent to think of bandaging a broken leg, would never overlook the obvious necessity of splitting a straw and making a pair of splints before he bound it with horsehair. Without for a moment imputing bad faith to the originator of the story, I think it much more probable that the nestling broke its leg by entangling it in the horsehair. WE are very much disappointed that the Audubon badge is not yet ready for delivery. The prepara- tion of a die is a work of unusual difficulty, and apt to be attended with numerous delays, but we still hope to have the medals ready in the first week of August. 166 THE AUDUBON SOCIETY FOR THE PROTEC- TION OF BIRDS. HE AUDUBON SOCIETY was founded in New York city in February, 1886. Its purpose is the protection of American birds, not used for food, from destruction for mer- cantile purposes. The magnitude of the evil with which the Society will cope,and the imperative need of the work which it proposes to accomplish, are outlined in the following state- ment concerning THE DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS. Within the last few years, the destruction of our birds has increased at a rate which is alarming. This destruction now takes place on such a large scale as to seriously threaten the existence of a number of our most useful species, It is carried on chiefly by men and boys who sell the skins or plumage to be used for ornamenta purposes—principally for the trimming of women’s hats, bonnets and clothing. These men kill every- thing that wears feathers. The birds of the woods, the birds of the field, the birds of the marsh and those of the sea are alike slain, at all times and at all seasons. It matters not if the bird be a useful one which devours the hurtful insects which destroy the farmer’s crops, or a bright-plumaged song- ster whose advent has been welcomed in spring, and which has reared its brood in the door yard during the summer, or a swift-winged sea swallow whose flight along the shore has often with unerring certainty led the fisherman to his finny prey— whatever it be, it must be sacrificed to the bird butcher's lust for slaughter and for gain. Besides the actual destruction of the birds, their numbers are’ still further diminished by the practice of robbing their nests in the breeding season. Although it is impossible to get at the number of birds killed each year, some figures have been published which give an idea of what the slaughter must be. We know that a single local taxidermist handles 30,000 bird skins in one year; that a single collector brought back from a three months trip 11,000 skins; that from one small district on Long Island about 70,000 birds were brought to New York in four months time. In New York one firm had on hand February 1, 1886, 200,000 skins. The supply is not limited by domestic consumption. Ameri- can bird skins are sent abroad. The great European markets draw their supplies from all over the world. In London there were sold in three months from one auction room, 404,464 West Indian and Brazilian bird skins, and 356,389 East Indian birds. In Paris 100,000 African birds have been sold by one dealer in one year. One New York firm recently had a contract to supply 40,000 skins of American birds to one Paris firm. These figures tell their own story—but it is a story which might be known even without them; we may read it plainly enough in the silent hedges, once vocal with the morning songs of birds. and in the deserted fields where once bright plumage flashed in the sunlight. BIRDS, INSECTS AND CROPS. The food of our small birds consists very largely of the insects which feed on the plants grown by the farmer. These insects multiply with such astounding rapidity that a single air may in the course of one season Ee the progenitors of six Billions of their kind. All through the season at which this insect life is most active, the birds are constantly at work destroying for their young and for themselves, tens of thou- sands of hurtful creatures, which, but for them, would swarm upon the farmer's crops and lessen the results of his labors, A painstaking and ardent naturalist not very long ago watched the nest of a pair of martins for sixteen hours, from 4 A. M. till 8 P. M., just to see how many visits the parent birds made to their young. He found that in that time 312 visits to the four young were made, 119 by the male and 193 by the female. ff we suppose only six insects to have been SS rouGHE at each visit, this pair of birds would have destroyed, for their young alone, in this one summer's day, not far from 2,000 insects. The important relations which our birds bear to the agricultural interests and so to the general welfare, are recog- nized by the governments of all our States. Laws exist for their protection, but these laws are rendered inoperative by the lack of an intelligent public sentiment to support them, They are nowhere enforced. It is for the interest of every one that such a public sentiment should be created, It is time that this destruction were stopped. PURPOSE OF THE AUDUBON SOCIETY. To secure the protection of our birds by awakening a better sentiment, the Audubon Society, named after the greatest of American ornithologists, has been founded. The objects sought to be accomplished by this Society are to prevent as far as possible — (x) The killing of any wild bird not used for food. oy Thie taking or destroying of the eggs or nests of any wild birds, (3) The wearing of the feathers of wild birds. Ostrich feathers, whether oti wild or tame birds, and those of domes- tic fowls, are specially exempted, The Audubon Socicty aims especially to preserve those The Audubon Soctety. birds which are now practically without protection. Our pene birds are already protected by law, and in large measure y public sentiment, and their care may be left to the sports- man. The great aim of the Society is the protection of American non-game birds, The English sparrow is not included in our lists, PLAN OF THE WORK. Obviously the Society cannot supply any machinery of com- pulsion to lead individuals and communities to a higher regard for bird life and to efforts for its protection. Nor are compulsory measures thought necessary, The wrong is toler- ated now only because of thoughtlessness and indifference. The birds are latled for millinery purposes. So long as fashion demands bird feathers, the birds will be slaughtered. The remedy is to be found in the awakening of a healthy pub- lic sentiment on the subject. If this enormous destruction of birds can once be put in its true light before the eyes of men and women and young folks, if interest be aroused and senti- ment created, the great wrong must cease. To so present the case to the people as to awaken this corrective sentiment is the special work contemplated by the Audubon Society. The methods adopted are very simple. Pledges are furnished, sub- scription to which constitutes membership, and certificates are issued to members, TERMS OF MEMBERSHIP. The signing of any of the pledges will qualify one for mem- bership in the Society, It is earnestly desired that each mem- ber may sign all three of the pledges. Beyond the promise contained in the pledge no obligation nor responsibility is in- curred. There are no fees, nor dues, nor any expenses of an: kind, There are no conditions as toage. ‘The boys and girls are invited to take part in the work, for they can often do more than others to practically protect the nesting birds. All who are interested in the subject are invited to become mem- bers, and to urge their fiends to join the Society. If each man, woman or child who reads this circular will exert his or her influence, it will not take long to enlist in the good work a great number of people actively concerned in the protection of our birds. It is desired that members may be enrolled in every town and village throughout the land, so that by the moral weight of its influence this Society may check the slaughter of our beautiful songsters. The beneficent influence of the Audubon Society should be exerted in every remotest by-way where the songs of birds fill the air, and in every crowded city pote the plumes of slain songsters are worn as an article of ress. ASSOCIATE MEMBERS. As there are a very great number of people in full sympathy with the Audubon movement, and oy to lend it their moral support, but who refrain from joining the Society simply be- cause they find it distasteful to sign a pledge, it has been determined to form a class of Associate Members. Ay one expressing his or her sympathy with the objects of the udu- bon Society and submitting a written request for membership to any local secretary, will be enrolled on the list of Associate Members. All such applications for membership received by local secretaries of the Society should be forwarded to the General Secretary for registiation. LOCAL SECRETARIES, 3 The Society has local secretaries in cities, towns and villages. The local secretary will furnish this circular of information and pledge forms; will receive the signed pledges, keep a list of the members, forward a duplicate list with the pledges for enrollment and file at the Society's office; and will receive in return certificates of membership, to be filled out and signed by the local secretary and given to the members, No certi. ficate of membership will be issued to il gg except upon the receipt of a signed pledge at the office of the Society. Where no local secretary has yet been appointed, individual applicants for membership may address the Society at its otice, No. 40 Park Row, New York, ae If there is no local secretary in your town, you are invited to act as such yourself, 6r to hand this to some other person who will accept the office. Upon application we will supply copies of this circular and pledge forms. THE AUDUBON SOCIETY CERTIFICATE, : The Society furnishes to each member a handsome certificate of membership. This bears a portrait of the great naturalist, John James Audubon, atter whom the Society very appro-~ priately takes its name. 2 The office of the Society is at 40 Park Row, New York city. All communications Should be addressed THE AUDUBON SOCIETY, No, 4o Park Row, New York. Print Your Own Cards ! PRESS $3, Circular size $8, Newspaper size $44. Type setting easy; printed directions. Send 2 Stamps for list presses, type, etc., to factory, = KELSEY & CO., Meriden, Conn. AUDUBON MAGAZINE (S) <—" Se etressnecsuzaa—— 2 [G) PWDEVOE&e ESTABISISHED 1852 OFFICES:COR FULTON &WILLIAMSS NEW YORIG SKETCHING OUTFITS® OF ALLKINDS. TUBE COLORS: WATER CoLoRS-CRAYNS DRAWINGPAPER: CANVASBRUSHES-O1sS% MEDIUMS: MATHEMATICAL, INSTRUMENTS HOUSE PAINTERS COLORS FRES@ CILORS: FINE VARNISHES Correspondence inviled- Catalogues cf our different departments To responsible barlies. COFFIN-DEVOE & Ce-176 RANDOLPHS™ ChICAGO SS Este ot Aesissepisy=—S— . 8 Hol ANTHONY & CO. 591 Broadway, N.Y. Manufacturers and Importers of PHOTOGRAPHIC + + INSTRUMENTS, Apparatus and Supplies OF EVERY DESCRIPTION. NANQIE MS COV CS “TSOIES TOBE ISI = ih | ¥ 4 ol a= Sole proprietors of the Patent Detec- tive, Fairy, Novel and Bicycle A Cameras, and the Celebrated Stan- ley Dry Plates. Amateur Outfits in great variety om $9.co upwards. Send for catalogue ES" More than “Forty Years Estab- lished in this line of business. FOUR FIRST Pees MEDALS AWARDED T EXHIBITIONS. HUSBAN D S More agreeable to the taste and smaller dose than other Magnesia. For sale at Druggists and Country Stores, in bottles only, with U. S. Govern- ment Registered Label attached, with- out which none is genuine. And by T. i HUSBAND, JR., Philadelphia, Pa. The Universal Fashion Co.’s Cut Paper PATTERNS, for Ladies’ and Children’s Gar- ments, are acknowledged to be the best in existence. Correct styles and perfect fit. Ladies, send for a Catalogue of UNIVERSAL PATTERNS free to any address, or 15 cents for the ALBUM OF FASHIONS, a handsome folio book with over 1,000 illustrations and descriptions. UNIVERSAL FASHION COMPANY, 40 East 12th st., New York. ADVERTISER. 167 A. J. Cammeyer, 165, 167 & 169 SIXTH AVE., NEw Cor. 12TH STREET, YorK CITY. Achilles, the greatest warrior of the elder world, could only receive his death wound in his heel have died since his day by receiving their death blow also upon the foot, discovering all too late that this was a vital part of the body. Wet feet, cold feet, hot and perspiring feet, are as dangerous to health and life as the wound that slew Achilles. and protect them from the rapid and extreme changes of our Many men and women Be wise in time and cover your feet properly, climate. I have every sort and variety of Shoes for Men, Women and children, thus providing the amplest care, comfort, protection and safeguards for the feet in every necessity and emergency. Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Button Boots, $3.00 Pet Rain. Ladies’ Kid-Top, Straight Patent Leather Tip, Hand- Sewed Welt Button Boots SSSeOUHD MC EBOSeSOnOAaCS $3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat Button Boots.. 3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Curacoa Kid Button Boots... 3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat, Foxed Kid- Top, Waukenphast Button Boots..... ...........-. 3-00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Calf, Foxed Kid- eTop;: Wau- kenphast Button Boots.. “ 3.00 These Shoes are especially per to take the place of the highest grade custom work of the finest material and finish, and the best workmanship that can be produced. I do not hesitate to warrant them equal to any custom made that are sold from $6 to $7 per pair, and at almost half the price. They are made in every variety, shape and form, and it makes no difference what the preference may be, I can guarantee a per- fect fit and satisfaction in every instance. CANVAS SHOES. My stock of Canvas Shoes of every description for Ladies, Misses and Children is now complete,such as Lawn Tennis, Bicycle, Yachting, and for all outdoor sporting purposes, at astonishingly low prices. I have tireless shoes for walkers, wing like slippers for dan- cers, dressy shoes for promenaders, low shoes for the comfort- loving ; in fact every kind of foot covering for Men, Women and Children, and at prices much Icwer than the same quality and make of goods are sold for elsewhere. People out of town should send for Illustrated Catalogue, which is mailed free on application. A. J. CAMMEYER, Sixth Avenue & Twelfth Street. 168 AUDUBON MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. THE SCHOOL OF HOME. Let the school of home be a good one. Let the reading at home be such as to quicken the mind for better reading still; for the school at home is progressive. The baby is to be read to, What shall mother and sister and father and brother read to the baby? BABYLAND. Babyland rhymes and jingles; great big letters and little thoughts and words out of BABYLAND. Pictures so easy to understand that baby quickly learns the meaning of light and shade, of distance, of tree, of cloud. The grass is green; the sky is blue; the flowers—are they red or yellow? ‘That depends on mother’s house- plants. Baby sees in the picture what she sees in the home and out of the window. BABYLAND, mother’s monthly picture- and-jingle primer for baby’s diversion, and baby’s mother-help. Babies are near enough alike. LAND fits them all; 50 cents a year. to D. Lothrop Company, Boston. One Basy- Send What, when baby begins to read for her- self? Why /erself and not Azmself? Turn about is fair play—If man means man and woman too, why shouldn't little girls in- clude the boys? Our LirtLtE Men anp WOMEN is an- other monthly made to go on with. Basy- LAND forms the reading habit. Think of a baby with the reading habit! After a little she picks up the letters and wants to know what they mean. The jingles are jingles still; but the tales that lie below the jingles begin to ask questions. What do Jack and Jill go up the hill after water for? Isn’t the water down hill? Baby is outgrowing BABYLAND. Our Lirrte Men anpd WOMEN comes next. No more nonsense. ‘There is fun enough in sense. The world is full of in- teresting things; and, if they come to a growing child not in discouraging tangles but an easy one at a time, there is fun enough in getting hold of them. That is the way to grow. Our LirrLe MEN AND WomeEN helps such growth as that. Begin- nings of things made easy by words and pictures; not too easy. The reading habit has got to another stage. You may send a dollar to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, for such a school as that for one year. Then comes THE Pansy with stories of child-life, tales of travel at home and abroad, adventure, history, old and new religion at home and over the seas, and roundabout tales on the International Sun- day School Lesson. Pansy the editor; THE Pansy the maga- zine. There are thousands and thousands of children and children of larger growth all over the country who know about Pansy the writer, and Tur Pansy the magazine. There are thousands and thousands more who will be glad to know. Send to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, a dollar a year for THE Pansy. The reading habit is now pretty well es- tablished; not only the reading habit, but liking for useful reading; and useful read- ing leads to learning. Now comes WibE AWAKE, vigorous, hearty, not to say heavy. No, it isn’t heavy, though full as it can be of practical help along the road to sober manhood and womanhood. Full as it can be? There is need of play as well as of work; and WipE AWAKE has its mixture of work and rest and play. The work is all toward self-im- provement; so is the rest; and so is the play. Send D. Lothrop Company, Boston, $2.40 a year for WipE AWAKE. Specimen copies of all the Lothrop mag- azines for fifteen cents; any one for five— in postage stamps. é & /69 ! 7 i 7 - a i a } - = i 4 a j F i i ‘ ( SANDPIPER. SLOTTED ( Actitis macularia (LINN.) ) ue AUDUBON MAGAZINE. Wor. I. JOHN SEPTEMBER, 1887. JAMES AUDUBON. Vill. HE sun of Audubon’s life was sinking westward and the indomitable spirit and energy were breaking, but still he could not resign himself to idleness. He began preparing his last great work, which was a reduced copy of the English publication. For many years one of Audubon’s great- est desires had been to see the great plains of the West and the Rocky Mountains. It was a hope which was always with him, and now, when the infirmities of age were be- ginning to creep upon him, he felt that no time must be lost if he would realize this long cherished wish. So, after settling his family in their home at Minnie’s Land, in what is now called Audubon Park, he turned his face toward the West. It was in March, 1843, that he left New York for Philadelphia, where he was joined by his friends, Edward Harris, Isaac Sprague, Lewis Squires, John G. Bell and Jedediah Irish, who were to be his companions on his long journey. The party proceeded to Cin- cinnati and St. Louis, and ascending the Missouri River reached Fort Leavenworth early in May. The journey up the river was full of interest for Audubon, and the journal of the trip contains a very full ac- count of all that was seen. Fort Union, at the mouth of the Yellowstone, was reached June 1, and this was the furthest point at- tained. Three months were spent here— months that were full of profit and pleasure to the naturalist. New birds and new mam- mals were obtained in considerable num- bers, hunting expeditions were organized, and the Indians were studied. The region proved so full of interest that Audubon was anxious that some of his younger compan- ions should remain there during the winter. For himself this was impossible, since his strength would not endure the rigors of a Northern winter, and he returned home, reaching New York early in October. Notwithstanding his age and failing strength, Audubon had no sooner returned from the West than, with his usual energy, he began to work again, and in a little more than two years the first volume of the “Quadrupeds of North America” made its appearance. This was his last work, the remaining volumes of the “ Quadrupeds”’ having been prepared chiefly by his sons, Victor and John Woodhouse. The declining years of Audubon’s life were passed in New York city at his beauti- ful home on the Hudson River, an estate comprising about twenty-four acres, lying between 155th and 158th streets and Tenth avenue and the river. Here, with his wife, his children, and his children’s children, the naturalist lived simply but very happily, sur- rounded by those wild creatures among which had been spent so much of the grand life that was now drawing peacefully to its close. The woods were full of birds, and 172 deer and elk rambled over the grass and beneath the ancient trees. Here, as he himself wrote in 1846, “ Surrounded by all the members of my dear family, enjoying the affection of numerous friends who have never abandoned me, and possessing a suffi- cient share of all that contributes to make life agreeable, I lift my grateful eyes toward the Supreme Being and feel that I am happy.” Toward the close of his life his sight began to fail him, so that he could no longer see to draw, and we may imagine what a deprivation it was to him to be obliged to lay aside his pencil. He bore his affliction with wonderful patience and sweetness, but it was the beginning of the end. In 1848 his mind, for sixty-eight years so vigorous and active, entirely failed him, and it was not until the day of his death, three years later, that the light of intelli- gence shone again from those eyes, hereto- fore so keen and piercing. Cared for and protected by loving hearts and tender hands, he passed down into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and on the morning of January 27, 1851, the long, adventurous, useful life ended. In a sketch of this nature it is not neces- sary to enlarge upon Audubon’s work, nor to demonstrate its importance to science. The world has already given its verdict as to these points ; the name of Audubon has been in- scribed high up on the roll of fame. Wilson, Bonaparte, Swainson and Nuttall all did their part toward making known the birds of America, but Audubon differed from all these as the artist differs from the skilled mechanic. In their drawings, however ex- act, the birds suggest immobility, in Audu- bon’s, arrested motion. Their figures lack the true artist's insight, which, penetrating beyond form, size and color, enabled him to depict the birds as instinct with life, char- acter and motion. Besides this, it was Audubon’s happy lot to live near to Nature’s heart, and to have her whisper to him se- John Fames Audubon. crets that she withheld from others. Wil- liam Swainson, in writing of the work in the Natural History Magazine in May, 1828, did but justice .to the artistic aspect of Audubon’s work when he said: “Tt will depend upon the powerful and the wealthy, whether Britain shall have the honor of fostering such a magnificent under- taking. It will be a lasting monument not only to the memory of its author, but to those who employ their wealth in patroniz- ing genius, and in supporting the national credit. If any publication deserves such a distinction, it is surely this, inasmuch as it exhibits a perfection in the higher attributes of zoological painting never before at- tempted. To represent the passions and the feelings of birds, might, until now, have been well deemed chimerical. Rarely, in- deed, do we see their outlined forms repre- sented with anything like nature. In my estimation, not more than three painters ever lived who could drawa bird. Of these the lamented Barrabaud, of whom France may justly be proud, was the chief. He has long passed away; but his mantle has, at length, been recovered in the forests of America.” Indomitable energy and perseverance were two most striking attributes of Audu- bon’s character, and joined with these was an enthusiasm and freshness that old age could not subdue. His temperament was sanguine, and he was never worn out by delays, never defeated by disappointment. He had an abiding faith in himself, and in the ultimate accomplishment of his work. For years he labored alone, facing with smiling courage obstacles which would have crushed hope out of the heart of a man less vigorous. One person there was who from the be- ginning shared his hopes and fears, who encouraged him in times of depression and doubt, who labored in order that he might have money with which to carry on his investigations, and who, whether by his side The Spotted Sandpiper. or separated from him by the width of an ocean, was ever his closest friend and his firmest supporter. To Lucy Audubon, his beautiful wife, as much as to the natural- ist himself, do we owe the great works which have made famous the name of Au- dubon. Many of those who read these pages will remember her majestic yet be- nign presence, and can understand the power for aid which so strong a character as hers must have exerted on the light- hearted and enthusiastic husband, whom she survived for twenty years. = 173 In beautiful Trinity Cemetery, within hearing of the lapping waters of the broad river, on whose banks they had lived to- gether, and hardly a stone’s throw from the house where their declining years were passed, John James Audubon and Lucy, his wife, repose side by side. No towering shaft rises toward heaven to mark their resting place or commemorate their deeds, but on the gray granite of a simple vault is carved the name . AUDUBON. ese SOM ISB SyASN DP TPE RS. UNNING swiftly along the sandy beach of the seashore, or probing the mud on the margin of some quiet pool, or balancing himself on a rock that rises above the surface of a brawling stream, you may find the Spotted Sandpiper any day from the early spring to the late summer. One of our commonest birds throughout the whole country, he is equally abundant along the surf-beaten sands of Long Island, the sluggish sloughs of Illinois, the mud- laden, hurrying waters of the great Mis- souri River and the streams of California, and wherever found he is the same familiar trustful little fellow, always busy about his own affairs, and having no time at all to attend to those of other people. There is one exception to this rule, and if his nest is approached, or he imagines that you are about to harm his downy young that on un- steady legs are following him and his wife about, learning how to make their living, then indeed the Spotted Sandpiper makes a dismal outcry, and both parents fly about you with piercing shrieks which tell plainly enough the story of their distress and the affection which they feel for their brood. At such times the mother resorts to every artifice to lead the enemy away from her young. She flutters on the ground almost at your feet, as if she were badly hurt and quite unable to fly, but if you attempt to catch her she manages by a few desperate wing beats to elude your grasp, and again struggles just before you, trembling and panting and with feebly beating wings, as if the effort she had just made had really been the last of which she was capable, and now you had only to step forward and take her in your hand. If you attempt it, you will find that she can still struggle onward, and so, step by step, she will lead you from her children, who, at the first sharp note which warned them of danger, squatted on the ground and remain perfectly motionless. As they are slate gray in color it is almost impossible to distinguish them from the stones among which they lie concealed. After the dangerous intruder has been drawn far enough from the spot where the young are hidden, all the mother’s vigor returns to her, and she flies away in tri- umph to return in a little while, and call the young out of their hiding places. It is a pretty sight to see the reunion of the little family and to observe the air of proud satis- faction with which the mother leads them away. Besides being one of our most common birds, the Spotted Sandpiper is a species of 174 wide distribution, being found from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and equally abundant in Alaska and Florida. The bird is also found in the West India Islands and in Mexico, and Central and South America, Its range may therefore be said to be Am- erica at large. The Spotted Sandpiper is known by a variety of names. Of these “ Peet-weet” manifestly refers to its shrill double-noted cry; “Tip-up ” and “Teeter ”’ to its curious bobbing or balancing motion, raising and lowering its tail as it stands; while ‘ Potato Snipe,” by which name it is known in cer- tain parts of Long Island, is given from its habit of feeding in the potato fields, where it destroys great numbers of insects. This species breeds almost everywhere in temperate North America, and its nest may be found high up on the Rocky Mountains, as well as near the streams on the plains below, and on the coast. Although breed- ing both in Labrador and Alaska, it was not found by Dr. Richardson in the fur country, but it has been taken on the Mackenzie River. This species reaches the Middle States from the South early in April in small flocks, which soon separate into pairs. Nesting is begun in May, and the site chosen varies much with the surroundings. Sometimes the nest is close to the bank of some little brook or still pool, and at others it may be at quite a distance from the water in a pasture, under a hedgerow, or among the weeds on the edge of a potato field. Nuttall saw one in a strawberry bed. In such locations a little hollow is scraped in the ground, and on a rough lining of a few blades of dried grass the eggs are deposit- ed. Sometimes the nest is more elaborate and better finished, for Audubon describes those found by him on an island in the Gulf of St. Lawrence as being quite large and well lined, Others still, found on the coast of Labrador, were even more worthy the name of nests, being made of dry moss The Spotted Sandpiper. and carefully lined with duck's feathers and dried grass. These nests were concealed under ledges of rock, and were so well hidden that they probably would not have been discovered, had it not been that the birds flew out as the naturalist was passing by. The eggs of the Spotted Sandpiper are always four in number. They are much pointed at the small end, and when lying in the nest the small ends are all together in the middle and the large ends toward the outside. The eggs are a dull cream color or grayish-yellow, and are thickly spotted with blotches of dark brown and black, which are much more numerous about the larger end. Like those of many snipe-like species, the eggs are very large in propor- tion to the size of the bird, being an inch and a quarter in length, and very wide at the larger end. The young leave the nest as soon as they are hatched and follow the mother as her chickens doahen. Their food is at first flies and small insects, and as they grow older, water insects, snails and small shells. After the young have become able to fly, the family still remain together, and being joined by other individuals, they keep in flocks, often of a dozen individuals, until the approach of cold weather, in October or early November, when they begin their journey southward. The flight of the Spotted Sandpiper is rapid and sustained, and when a flock is flying by, they swing from side to side, show- ing now their dark backs and again the white of their under parts. Sometimes they huddle closely together and again spread out. They circle and turn with surprising quickness. As soon as a flock alights the birds scatter out, running along the shore or upon floating drift stuff, hunting for food, and often wading out in the water until it is too deep for them to touch the bottom, when they swim easily and quite rapidly, When shot over the water, and only wounded Our Smith College Audubon Society. they often attempt to escape by diving, using their wings for progression under water. They sometimes alight on the branches of trees, where they walk lightly and easily, and we have frequently seen them perch upon the slender pliant willow twigs projecting from newly repaired “beaver houses” in the Missouri River and other Western streams. Audubon says that he has seen them on haystacks, where they seemed to be catching insects. The Spotted Sandpiper is a gentle and unsuspicious little bird, and readily answers and moves toward an imitation of its call note. In this way these birds are often lured within shooting distance of boys with guns, who thus kill many of them, but they are t09 small to be coveted by the grown up gunner, who disdains to shoot at such tiny birds. Within a few years past, however, many Spotted Sandpipers have been killed for hat decoration, and their distorted skins OUR SMITE COLLEGE T may seem a very simple thing to form an Audubon Society, but some ex- tremely perplexing questions arise when you come to the practical work of organiza- tion. How many boys or girls care for orni- thology? What can there be about an Au- dubon Society that is picturesque or enter- taining? If it is to have life, meetings must be held; but what can they be about? Shall you read reports on the proselytes the members have made—lists of names often too meagre to receive attention? Dry bones tied with red tape! Who would come to the meetings? The Society would come to an end as soon as the birds were tempo- rarily protected by a change of fashion. No. People must know and love the birds, or false logic and worldly argument 175 have adorned the headgear of many good but thoughtless women. The Spotted Sandpiper is about seven inches in length, and of this the bill occupies one inch. In color this bird is glossy olive brown above, sometimes with greenish reflections. The feathers of the top of head and neck are marked with dark spots along the shafts of the feathers, Those of the back are faintly barred with wavy black. The quills of the wings are dusky brown, all except the two outer ones being marked with a large oval spot of white on the inner web. Tail feathers like the back, but tipped with white and with a subterminal black bar. A line over the eye and the entire under parts white, thickly dotted with sharp circular black spots on the breast, reminding one of the spots on the breast of a thrush. Bill pale yellow, tipped with black, Feet, flesh color. The young of the year lack the spots below and are generally duller and grayer than the adults. AWD U BOIN SOCLE DT Y- will make them indifferent to their destruc- tion. You must interest them in the birds themselves. But how? By reading prosy descriptions from ornithological tomes full of measurements of “tarsus,” “middle toe,” “claw,” “bill above,” “along gape;” and statistics concerning remiges, culmen, spurious primaries, and the freedom of the “basal joint of middle toe for terminal fourth on outside, for half on inside?” Ordinary boys and girls have no desire to become ornithologists, but are easily inter- ested in out-of-door life. So take them into the fields and let them see how the birds look, what they have to say, how they spend their time, what sort of houses they build, and what are their family secrets. When we decided to do this, we deter- mined the success of our future Society. 176 Our Smith College Audubon Soctety. We said that our work must have two dis- tinct phases from the Outset: First—Proselyting. Second—Field work, But we said it tentatively, for the Audu- bon Society, now numbering over thirty thousand members, had been founded only a week or so then; and of our three hun- dred college girls, hardly half a dozen had heard of it, or had acknowledged to them- selves any especial interest in birds. With the instinct of agriculturists we began by preparing the ground. We but- tonholed our intimate friends, and got them to buttonhole theirs. We cut from newspapers the slips that were begin- ning to appear on bird destruction, and distributed them with telling effect; we had the question brought up in our Science Association meetings, and discussed in the biological laboratory. Gradually our list of friends increased. Two of the faculty took up our cause; little groups of students would meet to read each other the startling statistics; and one of the chief movers found one day a discarded plume in her let- ter box. The time was ripe. Something must be done to feed the interest. Too many questions were pending to allow of formal organization, and so a mass meeting was decided upon. Notices were posted, inviting all the college, but our hopes were more than realized when our tellers re- ported seventy girls and “five Faculty.” To our freshman friends that mass meeting must have seemed a marvel of spontaneity, but junior year has shown them the neces- sity of wire-pulling, and the exposure of our schemes will be no shock to them now. To let our first meeting drag would have been fatal. So the subjects we wanted discussed were arranged in their proper order, popular girls and the best speakers being selected to talk on them. Extracts and statistics were given them to illustrate their topics, and they were impressed with their cues, to avoid delay. We even went so far as to select the chairman, and those who should move her appointment. The result was that everything went off without a hitch or a pause. A usually shrinking senior took the chair with business-like self- possession; another senior who had never been known to speak in a meeting, rose be- fore her friend was fairly seated, and elabor- ated the “Need of Bird Protection” with a calmness that amazed her intimates; a popular leader of Germans and picnic par- ties captured the society element by the rare display of her earnestness in discussing the “Moral Side of the Question,’ while another college favorite won over the tender- hearted by showing the “Cruelties of the Fashion;” the one ornithologist among the students told us of the many forms of in- terest coming from the study of birds; the delights of field work were pointed out by one of the professors; and after a sugges- tive talk by a member of the Faculty on the position birds occupy in literature, and the pleasure their study brings in that direc- tion, the meeting was adjourned amid a burst of enthusiasm. That day a city milliner inquired anx- iously if the college authorities had forbid- den the use of birds, so many hats had been brought to her to be retrimmed. After this we were sure of support, and the business of organization was an easy mat- ter. Committees were appointed to draw up the constitution, report on a name for the Society, and so on, It seemed more for the interest of the main Society that all branches should be known by the same name throughout the country, so when Dr. Grinnell assured us that we could be a perfectly independent branch, we rejected the more individual titles of “Merle and Mavis Club,” “The Pterodactyl” and others, in favor of “Smith College Audubon So- ciety.” The election of officers involved more wire-pulling, and ‘eel skins” were distributed among our friends, who brought the candidates into notice, On March 17, Our Smith College Audubon Society. 177 1886, the constitution was adopted, the president, vice-president, secretary, treas- urer and executive committee were elected —the field work committee being left for appointment by the Council—and we be- came formally organized as a college soci- ety, scarcely three weeks from the beginning of our work, and, as we prided ourselves, some time before the establishment of the Wellesley Society. By this time the end of the term was ap- proaching, and ethics, theses, Plato, Kant, Hegel and others were jealously claiming our attention. The “S. C. A. S.” grew during vacation, however, and when we got back and heard that Mr. Burroughs was coming to begin field work with us, we felt sure of success. He was in Northampton three days, and took us out in classes of from ten to forty, whenever we could get away from recita- tions. The first morning, about forty started out at half-past five, and the same afternoon thirty of us climbed Mt. Tom with him. It was early in the spring for birds, and our numbers were enough to have frightened back to the South the few that had ven- tured North; but the strong influence of Mr. Burroughs’s personality and quiet enthusiasm gave just the inspiration that was needed. We all caught the conta- gion of the woods. With gossamers and raised umbrellas we would gather about him under the trees, while he stood leaning against a stump, utterly indifferent to the rain, absorbed in incidents from the life of some goldfinch or sparrow, interpreting the chippering of the swift as it darted about overhead, or answering the questions put to him, with the simplicity and kindliness of a beneficent sage. After he left, we lost no time in arrang- ing our spring field work. A committee of four gave up certain hours to taking the girls out, a sub-committee of nine being especially trained to relieve them as the classes increased in size. The work was carried through enthusiastically, and was eminently successful. The object was not to produce ornithologists, but to create habits of exact observation and arouse sympathetic interest in birds. The sections of observers were made as small as possible to facilitate the work. Pocket note books were distributed, so that all the characteris- tics of the birds could be taken down in the field, and general classifications and other points given by the heads of sections could be put down for reference when the girls went out to study by themselves. Blank migration schedules from the Ornithological Division of the Department of Agriculture were supplied to those who cared to arrange their notes themselves. Early in the season large supplies of Audubon circulars and pamphlets were placed in the college houses. At the May meeting, one of the natural- ists of the town gave us an interesting talk on nests, telling us where to find them, and how to distinguish them. At the June meeting, the president of the Society gave a sketch of the life of Audubon, and this was followed by a report of the work of the term, which excited general discussion of the notes made by the different members, and was very entertaining. At the end of the first three months the Society had eighty-nine members. Fifty of these had been in the field, and twenty-three handed in notes to be collaborated and sent to the Department of Agriculture. Seventy- six species of birds had been reported on;, fifty-six nests had been found, including twenty-two kinds; and a great many inter- esting and valuable notes had been col- lected. The treasury held over twenty dollars as the result of the twenty-five cent membership fee. In the line of proselyting, thousands of Audubon papers had been dis- tributed, a society had been founded in Kansas, and certainly a hundred outside converts had been made. The summer vacation, bringing with it 178 Wholesale Destruction NI the attempt to force the fashion of feather millinery back again, called for the best efforts of our workers, and ten thousand circulars were sent out by a few of the most zealous, while letters and newspaper protests were used to spread the opposition. When college opened in the fall, although the class of '86, with whom the Society originated, had gone, the “S. C. A. S.” was found in the same vigorous condition, and fifty observers took up field work at the outset. The interest increased through the year, and the meetings were varied by of Birds in Florida. discussions of field work, essays by observ- ers, and popular articles from those natu- ralists who have the art of putting others into the spirit of the woods. In fact, the “S, C. A. S.’ has become one of the established institutions of the college, and it is safe to predict for it a long career of usefulness, for it is helping to make of our girls who have been blinded by the absorbing public school training, women who shall see, and that in the deep- est, fullest sense ever emphasized by Mr. Ruskin. From BEHIND THE SCENES. WHOLESALE DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS IN N O one familiar with the story of Phar- aoh and the plagues of Egypt would openly advocate the extermination of the birds of this continent; but while thousands look on at the process with calm indiffer- ence, unconscious that birds play any im- portant part in the economy of nature, there are other—and on this point better informed —people who realize clearly some of the possible consequences of such extermina- tion, but who pooh-pooh the idea that the annual demand for five or ten million bird skins can in any way affect the permanent supply. With such people it is useless to argue from general principles, and if facts are ad- duced they are generally ready to dispute them on the ground that they have been collected by incompetent observers, or to assert that they are explicable on some other theory; but a careful report upon the so-called rookeries of Florida (the erstwhile winter home and breeding grounds of 1n- numerable waterfowl, divers and waders) by W.E. D. Scott in the April and July num- bers of Zhe Auk is conclusive as to the disappearance of all birds of this class from our Southern lowlands, and leave no room for the plea of incompetence to form a con- FLORIDA. clusion. Mr. Scott is a naturalist, familiar with the region of which he treats, and the evidence which he adduces as to the rapid disappearance of waterfowl from the Florida lowlands and waters, is not the testimony of theorists, sentimentalists or casual observers, but the very best of all evidence for our purpose, viz., that of men who pursue the collection of skins as a calling. But we will first call Mr. Scott himself to the bar. Mr. Scott went down in 1886 to visit localities with which he had already familiarized himself in1880. As a natural- ist and trained observer he had carried away with him on his first visit a perfectly distinct impression of the region as he then saw it. Let him now speak for himself as to the sense of contrast awakened by his second visit after a six years’ interval. Writing of the smaller of the Anclote Keys (two islands in the Gulf of Mexico) he says: ‘Six years ago the smaller of these two keys was a rookery for countless pairs of birds. There were literally thousands of them. The several acres of breeding ground aré closely wooded with mangrove and other trees and bushes, and each tree or bush of any size contained several nests, * * * besides, during May and June, hundreds of pairs of frigate birds (/regeta agui/a) though these, as far as I am aware, did not breed. * * This morning in passing Wholesale Destruction of Birds tn Florida. these islands I saw but four pelicans (they were flying by), two or three frightened herons, and a few gulls andterns. * * * Onceat this time of the year a perfect cloud of birds were to be seen hovering all day over the islands, so tame and unsuspicious that they had little or no fear of man, but now the place is almost deserted by birds, and the few that are left have become, by being hunted, as wary as the tradi- tional deer.” The above extracts give Mr. Scott's first impressions as to the changes wrought by skin collectors, impressions which further wanderings did nothing to remove. The same day (April 30, 1886) he passed another deserted heronry, which had many herons breeding on it in 1880, and the next day he reached John’s Pass, where he particularly wished to observe a rookery visited in April six years before. ““At that time (he writes) I made two visits of a day and a night each in this same rookery, and among the myriads of birds that are breeding and roosting the particular abundance of the roseate spoonbill, the reddish egret and all of the common herons, as well as the white ibis, will never be for- gotten. It is enough to state without going into great detail, that in one flock at that time were at least two hundred wonderfully colored spoonbills, and that the number of the other species were many times greater.” Now observe what he says of the state of affairs in 1886: “Looking carefully over both (islands) I could see no birds where we anchored, but as the sun began to get low in the west, a few—possibly fifty in all— shy and suspicious herons straggled in to roost on the smaller of the two keys, and a flock of fish crows were the only visitors at the larger. * * * No spoonbill, not a single white ibis—in fact an utter transformation from the happy and populous com- munity of only a few years before.” Every day's observation is but a weary repetition of the same experiences. Referring to his cruise through Charlotte Harbor he writes: Captain Baker, who sailed the sloop, an old sponger and fisherman who had been familiar with all of this country for twenty-five years or more, pointed out to me among these islands, four at dif- ferent points, where he assured me vast rookeries had existed, One of perhaps sixty acres he said he 179 had seen so covered with ‘‘ white curlew”’ that, to use his own words, ‘‘it looked from a distance as if a big white sheet had been thrown over the man- And though we passed by, as I have said before, islands that plainly showed, by excrement still on the ground, that once countless numbers of birds had lived there, sailing probably over about forty miles in all, I did not see a rookery that was occupied even by a few birds, and I only saw a few stray gulls, pelicans, and two herons in the whole day’s cruise. About 4 o'clock, P. M., we reached a little settlement at the mouth of Pease Creek, called Hickory Bluff, and I went ashore to get what infor- mation I could regarding birds. The postmaster and several other citizens with whom I talked all agreed that five or six years be- fore birds had been plenty at the rookeries, and that it was no trouble to get hundreds of eggs to eat or to kill as many birds as one cared to. But that for the past two years birds had been so persecuted, to get their plumes for the Northern market, that they were practically exterminated, or at least driven away from all their old haunts. I further learned that all of the gunners and hunters in the country round, had up to this year reaped a very considerable income from this source. Birds were killed, and the plumes taken from the back, head, and breast, and the carcass thrown to the buzzards. Fort Myers, on the Caloosahatchie, was the central local market for this traffic, where several buyers were always ready to pay a high cash price for all plumes and fancy feathers. The force of resident buyers was increased during the winter of each year by taxidermists (?) and buyers from the North, who came, in some cases at least, provided to equip hunters with breech- loaders, ammunition, and the most approved and latest devices for carrying on the warfare. One man, who had come down in this way for the past four years, was down South now, and regularly em- ployed from forty to sixty gunners, furnishing them with all supplies and giving so much a plume or flat skin, for all the birds most desirable. The prices, I was told, ranged from twenty cents to two dollars and a half a skin, the average being about forty cents apiece. During his stay here he was visited by two plume hunters, from whom he obtained a great deal of information as to the condi- tion of things, past and present. One of them, Abe Wilkerson, was on his way to some lakes far up the river, where he hoped to find large rookeries of the little white egret. His method of obtaining birds (he told Mr. Scott) groves.’ 180 Wholesale Destruction of Birds in Florida. was with a 22-cal. Winchester rifle. With this he ‘could go into a rookery and secrete himself, and by using the lightest kind of cartridge get many more ‘birds than with a shotgun, as the report is hardly ‘greater than the snapping of a branch, and is scarcely noticed by the birds. In this way he said he had been able in a large rookery down south to get over four hundred ‘‘plume birds” in less than four days. During the first week of Mr. Scott’s sail- ing among the islands he saw only what may be called the final results of plume hunting, but guided by Mr. Wilkerson he found his way later to an island which had just been worked by the plume hunters. We will let him describe the same in his own words: A few herons were to be seen from time to time flying to the island, and presently I took the small boat and went ashore to reconnoitre. This had evidently been only a short time before a large rook- ery. The trees were full of nests, some of which still contained eggs, and hundreds of broken eggs strewed the ground everywhere. Fish crows and both kinds of buzzards were present in great num- bers and were rapidly destroying the remaining eggs. I found a huge pile of dead, half decayed birds, ly- ing on the ground, which had apparently been killed for a day or two. All of them had the ‘‘plumes” taken with a patch of the skin from the back, and some had the wings cut off; otherwise they were un- injured. I counted over two hundred birds treated in this way. * * * This was the rookery that Mr. Wilker- son had spoken of; within the last few days it had been almost destroyed, hundreds of old birds having been killed and thousands of eggs broken. I do not know of a more horrible and brutal exhibition of wanton destruction than that which I witnessed here. Now let us hear what Mr. Frank Johnson, a professional “bird plumer,” has to say on the subject. Mr. Scott interviewed him of course, and the bird plumer talked freely —almost feelingly. He was hunting plumes, particularly of the snowy heron, American egret, and reddish egret, as they brought the highest prices, but he killed to sell to the ‘‘taxidermists,” as he called them, ‘‘ almost any- thing that wore feathers.” He said he wished there was some law to protect the birds, at least during the breeding time, which would not be violated. He added, however, that as everybody else was ‘* plum- ing,’ he had made up his mind that he might as well have his share. He was killing birds and taking plumes now for Mr. J. H. Batty, of New York city, who employed many men along the entire Gulf coast from Cedar Keys to Key West. When asked what Mr. Batty purchased, it was again “‘almost anything that wore feathers, but more particularly the herons, spoon- bills, and showy birds.” * * * A fortnight later, while at Punta Rassa, Mr. Scott again met Abe Wilkerson, who had returned from the Myakka Lakes, at which he expected to secure so many little white egret plumes. He reported very lit- tle success—about seventy-five plumes—for although he had found large rookeries, the birds (he said) had been so persistently hunted that they had become very wild. But what need to pursue the subject fur- ther? The war of extermination has been waged so successfully that the very plume hunters, seeing their occupation gone, are pleading for protection in the breeding season. The lowlands of Florida, the marshes, the rivers, the islands of its long indented coast line, which but seven years ago were teeming with bird life over their wide area, are now one vast expanse of dreary desola- tion—cities of the dead, rendered only still more strikingly desolate by the mournful cries of the few solitary survivors. Is it not time to check this wanton destruction, and endeavor by a rigid protection of the little remnant to restore the condition of earlier years? There are other than senti- mental reasons for this course. The lives of these birds are not purposeless. They take their food in the water and accumulate their droppings on the land. In this man- ner barren rocks and sands are dressed with organic remains rich in phosphates that have not been derived from the soil, but which the birds have for ages been storing up for the future support of the population of the State, A war of extermination against these birds is a war against God and Nature, and re- flects no less discredit on the government which tolerates it supinely, than on the in- dividuals who prosecute it for gain. EIN TS] -.O> -Asuep UB OWN FIFTY COMMON BIRDS HEN you begin to study the warb- lers, you will probably come to the conclusion that you know nothing about birds, and can never learn. But if you be- gin by recognizing their common traits, and then study a few of the easiest ones and those that nest in your locality, you will get less discouraged, and, when the flocks come back at the next migration, will be able to master the peculiarities of a larger number. Most of them are very small—much less than half the size of a robin—and are not only short but slender. Active as the chick- adee or kinglet, they are good examples of perpetual motion, flitting about the trees and undergrowth after insects without con- sideration for the observer who is attempt- ing to make out their markings. As a group, they are dashed with all the colors of the rainbow, a flock of them look- ing as if a painter had thrown his palette at them. You can see no cthyme-orreason. in the confusing combinations, and when you find that their colors differ entirely accord- ing to age and sex, you despair of ever mastering them. Why they should be called warblers is a puzzle, as a large percentage of them have nothing worthy the name of a song, nothing but a thin chatter, or a shrill piping trill. If you wish to form a negative concep- tion of them, think of the coloring, song and habits of the thrush, No contrast could be more complete. The best places to look for them during migration are young trees, sunny slopes, and orchards. BLACKBURNIAN WARBLER}; HEMLOCK WARB- LER}; ORANGE-THROATED WARBLER. The Blackburnian is one of the hand- somest and most easily recognized of the * CopyRiGHT, 1887, BY FLORENCE A. MERRIAM. AND HOW Iv. WORKERS * TO KNOW THEM. warblers. His throat is a rich orange or flame color, so brilliant that you can never mistake him for any of the others. His back is black, with yellowish markings. His crown is black, but has an orange spot in the center; the rest of his head, except near his eye, being the same flaming orange as his throat. His wings have white patches, and his breast is whitish, tinged with yellow. His sides are streaked with black. The female and young are duller, the black of their backs being mingled with olive; while their throats are yellow, instead of orange. Now and then you are fortunate enough to get a near view of this exquisite bird, but he has an aggravating fondness for the highest branches of the tallest trees. You can see that there is something up there, but as you throw your head back against your collar and strain through your opera glass, you fancy it is some phantom bird flitting about darkening the leaves. The seconds wear into minutes, but you dare not change your position. Your glasses won't help you to see through the leaves, but you feel sure that something will ap- pear in a moment, over the edge of that spray or on the end of that bare twig and it won't do to miss it. So when your neck- ache becomes intolerable you fix your eye on the spot and step cautiously backward till you can lean up against a tree. The support disappoints you, your hand trem- bles as much as ever, and your neck is growing stiff. You make a final effort, take your glass in both hands, and change your focus, when suddenly you hear a low, fine trill, that you recognize from being ac- cented on the end like a redstart’s, coming from a branch several feet higher over your head. Your neck refuses to bend an inch 182 further. You are in despair. But all at once your tormentor comes tumbling down through the leaves after an insect that has gotten away from him, and you catch one fleeting glimpse of orange that more than repays you for all your trials. The nest of the Blackburnian is rarely found, but is said to be built, usually, high among the pines. It is made of grass, and lined with feathers, hair or fur. The eggs are of a pale bluish-green, spotted all over with umber brown of varying intensity. BLACK AND WHITE CREEPING WARBLER. Although much more slender, the creeper is just about the length of the chickadee, of whom he reminds you by his fondness for tree trunks and branches. Instead of flit- ting about gaily, however, he creeps soberly up and down the length of the trees, cir- cling around as he goes, reminding you strongly of the nuthatch and the brown creeper. As his name indicates, he is entirely black and white, and for the most part the colors are arranged in alternate streaks, except on the underside of his breast, where there is an area of white. His song is a high- keyed trill, and as he is so nearly the color of the gray bark he is generally clinging to, it is a very grateful help to the discoy- ery of his whereabouts. Of his song Mr. Burroughs says: “ Here and there I meet the black and white creep- ing warbler, whose fine strain reminds me of hair wire. It is unquestionably the finest bird song to be heard.” In describing the nest and young, Mr. Burroughs says: “A black and white creeping warbler suddenly became much alarmed as I approached a crumbling old stump in a dense part of the forest. He alighted upon it, chirped sharply, ran up and down its sides, and finally left it with much The which con- tained three young birds nearly fledged, was placed upon the ground, at the foot of reluctance. nest, Flints to Audubon Workers. the stump, and in such a position that the color of the young harmonized perfectly with the bits of bark,-sticks, etc., lying about. My eye rested upon them for the second time before I made them out. They hugged the nest very closely, but as I put down my hand they all scampered off with loud cries for help, which caused the parent birds to place themselves almost within my reach.” The nest was merely a little dry grass arranged in a thick bed of dry leaves. BLACK-THROATED BLUE WARBLER. Like other ladies, the little feathered brides have to bear their husbands’ names whether they are appropriate or not. What injustice! Here an innocent creature with an olive-green back and yellowish breast has to go about all her days known as the black-throated blue warbler, just because that happens to describe the dress of her spouse! The very most she has in com- mon with him is a white spot on her wings, and, as if to add insult to injury, that does not come into the name atall. Talk about woman’s wrongs! And the poor little things can not even apply to the Legislature to have their names changed! You do not blame them for nesting in the mountain fastness and the seclusion of our Northern woods, to get away from the scientists who ignore their individuality in this shocking manner. For it is not the fault of their mates in this case. They are as pleasing, inoffensive birds as any in the warbler family, and go about singing their sy guttural ¢ g° as they hunt over the twigs and branches, without the slightest assumption of conjugal authority. Mr. Burroughs has given a most delight- ful and sympathetic description of them. He says: “Beyond the bark-peeling, where the woods are mingled hemlock, beech, and birch, the languid midsummer note of the black-throated blue-back falls on my ear, ‘Twea, twea, twea-e-e! in the upward slide, and with the peculiar z-zg of summer in- Hints to Audubon Workers. sects, but not destitute of a certain plaintive cadence. It is one of the most languid, unhurried sounds in all the woods. I feel like reclining upon the dry leaves at once. Audubon says he has never heard his love- song; but this is all the love-song he has, and he is evidently a very plain hero with his little brown mistress. He assumes few attitudes, and is not a bold and striking gymnast, like many of his kindred. He has a preference for dense woods of beech and maple, moves slowly amid the lower branches and smaller growths, keeping from eight to ten feet from the ground, and repeating now and then his listless, indolent strain. His back and crown are dark blue, his throat and breast, black; his belly, pure white; and he has a white spot on each wing.” SUMMER YELLOWBIRD ; GOLDEN WARBLER 5 YELLOW WARBLER. If you have caught glimpses of this little fellow as he was building in your orchard or the shrubbery of your garden, you may have wondered about his relation to the other yellowbird—the goldfinch. But when you look at him carefully, you will find that the two are entirely distinct. The goldfinch is bright canary color, and has a black cap, tail and wings. The sum- mer yellowbird, on the contrary, is a heavier yellow, having no black to emphasize the color, but obsolete brown streaks on the breast that prevent his having a clear yel- low look. The goldfinch is a larger bird, and has the thick bill of the finch, instead of the fine one of the warbler, as he lives on seeds in- stead of insects. On the wing, at a distance, the peculiar undulating flight of the goldfinch is enough to distinguish him; and when you are near enough to hear him sing, you will see that his canary-like song bears no resemblance to the warbler trill of the summer yellow- bird. 183 YELLOW-RUMPED WARBLER; MYRTLE WARBLER. During migration the yellow-rumped is one of the most abundant warblers. It is a hardy, robust-looking little creature; the first to appear in the spring and one of the last to leave in the fall. You can recognize it very easily in spring, because the black zouave jacket it wears over its white vest has conspicuous white and yellow side pieces. In the fall the black and yellow may be obscured, but its yellow rump is always constant, and Coues says he has never seen it without a trace of yellow on the sides and in the crown. It is a fearless bird, and frequents under- growth as well as treetops, and if you can induce an adult male to keep still long enough on a spring morning, you will easily make out the yellow crown that sets off his slaty-blue back, and the white chin that gives the effect of a choker. Sometimes you will see large flocks of the yellow-rumped without any other warb- lers, but as a general thing you will discover a few other species, and sometimes there will be a dozen different kinds together. The myrtle warbler has a coarse z-y call, and a trill that is heavier than that of the golden warbler. It goes to the Northern States, Nova Scotia, and northward to spend the summer and raise its family, but comes as far south as Florida during the winter. Dr. Brewer says that Audubon studied its habits there during a winter, and, he says, “describes them as very social among them- selves, skipping along the piazza, balancing themselves in the air opposite the sides of the house in search of spiders and insects, diving through the low bushes of the garden after larve and worms, and at night roost- ing among the orange trees.” CHESTNUT-SIDED WARBLER. When I first saw the chestnut-sided warb- ler, flitting about the upper branches of the saplings in a raspberry patch, he was per- 184 haps three rods away, and I put his yellow cap and wing bars down as white, and did not see the chestnut bands along his sides at all. I noted his pure white breast, how- ever, and his loud, cheerful w/ee-he-he, whee-he-he, so entirely distinct from the ordinary warbler trill or the zy tones of some species. The next day, after looking him up, and finding what ought to be there, by the help of my glasses I discovered what seemed little more than a maroon line be- side the wings. Ina few days I found an- other bird whose chestnut sides were as Coues would have them, and I felt the satis- faction that always accompanies such dis- coveries. It was a favorite observing ground of mine, where I sometimes surprised the rare mourning warbler as he plumed himself, and sang his morning song in the sunlight; and though I did not succeed in finding the nests that ought to have been a few feet from the ground, in the saplings that bor- dered the clearing, I found plenty of mother chestnuts with their broods in various stages of growth. They were among the pleas- antest acquaintances of the summer. Such charming little birds as they are! My first intimation of what was going on was the sight of one of these dainty little bodies peering at me from under the leaves and twigs, with a mouthful of worms. After hunting about in the low bushes for some time, I finally found a funny grayish baby bird with light wing bars, and wavy gray shadowy markings across its breast. But it was not until the next day that I proved this to be the young of the chestnut-sided warbler. I was watching some vireos in the bushes just in the edge of the clearing, when the mother suddenly appeared. She leaned over, perking up her tail and drooping her wings so as to be able to see me, gave a few little questioning smacks, and then flew down into the bush within a few feet of me, and fed her young without alarm. Fear seems to be an inherited instinct with her, Flints to Audubon Workers. but her individual confidence is so strong as to conquer it. She is altogether sensible, straightforward, industrious and confiding. BLACK-MASKED GROUND WARBLER; MARY- LAND YELLOW-THROAT. If your walks lead you through low un- derbrush, weed-grown river banks, alder swamps, or other damp and rough places, you will very likely notice the loud, quick whee’ -che-tee, whee! -che-tee, whee’ -che-tee that betrays the presence of the Maryland yel- low-throat. He is often very shy, and you may follow his voice for a long time before discovering anything, but when you have seen him once, you will never forget him. You will very likely find him hopping about on the ground or else near it, for he is truly a ground warbler. He has a rich yellow chin, throat and breast, a black forehead, and a peculiar, mask-like, oblong black patch on each side of his face, extending from the bill beyond his eye to his neck, and separated from the dark back part of his head by a strip of ash. His back is olive-green. The colors of the female are much duller, as she lacks the black patch and the bright yellow. Mr. Bicknell, in his admirable essay on the “Singing of our Birds,” has called at- tention to the Maryland yellow-throat’s habit of “song flight.” He says: “The little black-masked bird seems to believe it necessary that singing should continue through the whole course of the flight, and as the ordinary song, with which it begins, comes to an end while yet the bird is in the air, the time is filled out by a disarranged medley of notes very different from its usual utterance. I have not often seen these performances before midsummer, and the August songs of the species are most frequently those which accompany these flights, which are oftenest indulged in in the late afternoon or toward evening.” If you would see the Maryland yellow- Byram and Ghopal. 185 throat at his best, you must invade the dense tangle of an alder swamp, the last refuge of the fugitive, where you can get only mosaic glimpses of blue sky overhead, and can not distinguish a person twenty feet away; where you must pick your way around treacherous bogs, over fallen tree trunks and slippery logs, as you push through the interwoven boughs; where the wild grapevine, the clematis and the rough clinging galium beautify the sturdy alders; where the royal fern, stretching above your waist, flowers in the obscurity. Here, in this secure cover, our little friend seems to lose his timidity, and blossoms out in the full beauty of his nature. We find him singing to himself as he runs over the alder boughs, examining the leaves with the care of a vireo, or clambering down the side of an alder stalk to hunt at its roots. Whr-r-ree'- chee-tee, whr-r-ree’- chee-tee, whr-r-ree'-chee-tee, the cheery rich song tings through the air, and is echoed from the far-off corners of the swamp. We sit down on an old moss-covered log to eat our lunch, and in answer to my call the little fellow comes nearer and nearer till at last he catches sight of us. With what charming curiosity he peers down at us! What can be his thoughts of these strange intruders as he makes a half circle around us, inspecting us first from one point and then from another! A little further along I come upon a father bird who is even more friendly. He is feeding his hungry little ones, going about in a business-like way hunting for food, but still taking time for an occasional warble. He sees me, but goes on with his work, after a casual survey, with the calm- ness of preoccupation, answering my call in a naive, off-hand manner that is very gratifving. sociable FLORENCE A, MERRIAM. BYRAM AND GHOPAL. E left our travelers on the outskirts of a town, or rather village, at the end of their day’s march. Their destina- tion was of course the Uthak or Caravan- serai, which they had no sooner reached than some of the leading merchants sent in small supplies of food as usual. It must not be supposed that they did this for any Faquir that arrived, but Byram was well known throughout all the land. His father’s conduct in cutting off his legs in childhood, to save him from the guilt of trampling on a worm, was regarded as an act of extreme piety, very inconvenient perhaps for Byram, but nevertheless giving him an especial claim upon Heayen and upon the charity of all who wished to stand wellwith the gods. But this was not all. The majority of Faquirs demand alms in somewhat peremptory tones, as debts due to the gods, but Byram had never been known to ask alms. On reaching a town he allowed himself to be carried through the bazaar, where he thankfully acknowl- edged whatever was given him, but if any merchant let him pass without a gift Byram made no comment. Beyond all this, Byram had not merely a reputation for great piety and for giving liberally in charity to the necessitous, but he was regarded as a very learned man, familiar with the history of States and Em- pires, with the sacred writings of the Hin- dus, and with the history of Persia, Arabia and other countries; moreover, he was re- nowned for his familiarity with the habits of every living creature, especially of birds and insects, and as he was affable in dis- 186 Byram and Ghopal. position and always ready to impart or re- ceive information, he was known every- where as Byram the Wise. Consequently, wherever he went, food and coppers flowed in freely, and although the loss of his legs rendered him so helplessly dependent on others, there was perhaps not in all India another man so utterly free from care for the future as Byram. The village to which we accompanied Byram was but a small one, and although the wealthy class, the merchants, have the reputation of being very extortionate and avaricious, they have a great respect for public opinion, and if they disliked giving, they disliked still more to be pointed at for not giving. Some gave a cent and some the third part of a cent; all gave something. On this occasion the total contribution was but thirty-six cents, ample indeed for pay- ment of Gophal’s wages in a country in which the average. laborer earns only from six to nine centsa day. But little of the morning was lost in canvassing the bazaar, and before the sun was two hours high our travelers had started for the next town, called Dhowlutpore, the first town of any size since they left Halla. Ghopal trudged along in silence, won- dering when Byram would open the dispute; and what he could possibly say to prove that the bee’s sting could benefit man. Then he chuckled to himself as he thought that Byram was not bound to such extreme conditions by the contract, but having, per- haps without due thought, hazarded the remark that everything that Brahma has created is for man’s benefit, he was now bound to stand by it, and to hand over the money if he failed to make good his posi- tion. Then Ghopal fell to counting over the money mentally, and thinking how rich he would be if it were transferred from Byram’s girdle to his own; and the second and third and fourth mile were left behind, and still Byram spake not. This is a good sign, thought Ghopal. I have surprised him into defending a posi- tion for which he is not prepared, and he is silent because he has no defense. As Ghopal’s hopes rose he got strongly excited, and at length, unable to bear the suspense any longer, he asked Byram if he was prepared to enter on the dispute. “Not yet,” said Byram; “I am thinking.” This confession of weakness naturally raised Ghopal’s hopes, and again he trudged on in silence until seven miles were left behind. Here they came to a well near a grove of mango trees, the property of a Brahmin, who came forward and invited our travelers to rest and drink of the water of his well, which was marvelously pure, and pariake of his mangoes. eZ Ne: “You are Byram the Wise,” said he, addressing Byram, “for although mine eyes have never before beheld thee, I have often heard of thee from my rela- tives in the Punjab.” “Call me not wise,” said Byram, “for this six feet of potter's clay has confused my understanding so that I am at a loss to answer him in dispute.” “Tt must be a strange dispute,” said Atmaram, for that was the name of the well owner, “in which Byram the Wise could not hold his own against a potter. Let thy EE Byram and Ghopal. servant hear the subject and the point in dispute.” And Byram said, “O Atmaram, I re- marked yesterday in conversation with this my disciple, who is of the’ potter caste, that Brahma had created nothing but what is beneficial to man.” “Of a surety,” said Atmaran, “thy disci- ple would not dispute that point with a man of thy learning.” “Just then,” said Byram, “my disciple sighted a wild bees’ hive, and deterred from getting the honey by the fear of the bees’ stings, he called on me to defend the general proposition in this particular case, and show that Brahma in giving the bee his sting, conferred a favor on man.” Atmaram looked from one to the other, but was not ready with any counsel, and Ghopal hardly knew whether he was stand- ing on his head or his heels. “Be not over-elated,” said Byram, smil- ing; ‘a child may puzzle the greatest phi- losopher with a question, for no man has insight into all the ways of Brahma; but let us rest here until two-thirds of the day be spent, and I will seek counsel of myself in sleep.” After they had drunk and praised the water from Atmaram’s well and eaten a couple of mangoes each, Ghopal carried their charpoys* into the grove, and in the dense shade of the mango trees our trav- elers were soon asleep. When Ghopal awoke the sun had long passed the meridian, and seeing Byram was sitting up on his charpoy, he too rose and took a drink of the cool water, which Byram poured out for him from the ghurra at his bedside. Byram was more than usually serene; the perplexity which had overshad- owed his brow in the morning had given place to confidence and light, and it was not without some misgiving that Ghopal asked him if he had found an answer in sleep. *Literally ‘‘four-footed.” The bedstead which Orientals occasionally take up and walk away with. 187 “Not in sleep, Ghopal, but when I awoke refreshed from sleep I saw clearly that Brahma had only taught the bee to make honey that she might allure man to study her ways and learn the lesson taught by her Thou knowest, Ghopal, or may be thou dost not know, that the bees, like the ants, white and black, live together in communities in a high but peculiar state of organization. All the working bees, the honey-makers, are females, but barren. In each hive there is one fertile bee only—the queen bee—who lays thousands of eggs in a season, which are taken care of by the working bees, who feed the young larve. To lay so many fertile eggs the queen re- quires the services of many males. The male bees, or drones, have no other func- tion in life to perform; they do no work, take no care of the young, collect no honey, and being permitted by the working bees to eat their fill during the working season, they liave a pleasant time, and learn to regard themselves as superior beings and the working bees as inferior creatures, cre- ated only to provide for their enjoyment and necessities. As winter approaches, these drones look with complacency on the well-filled combs, which they regard as their own. From this pleasant dream there comes a rude awakening. The drones may strut about and play the role of a privileged class as long as the workers choose to tole- rate it, but they have no sting; the real power lies with the workers, whenever they choose to exercise it, and as soon as the drones have performed the only useful function they are capable of, the workers oppose their visits to the honey. Aston- ished at such a change of conduct, and at the display of opposition from the workers who have hitherto treated them with defer- ence, and never doubting their own right to the honey, they assert their claims peremp- torily and offer to oppose force by force, when the workers immediately fall on them and sting them that they die.” sting. 188 “That proves,” said Ghopal, “that the stings are very useful to the working bees, who are doubly indebted to Brahma, firstly for providing them with weapons to defend the fruits of their toil, and secondly for leaving the drones defenseless, but I fail to see how this can benefitman.” ~ “Do you suppose,” said Byram, “that Brahma talks to man?” “Nay, Byram, I have heard thee say that man’s ear is not attuned to the voices of the gods.” “True,” said Byram, “but man’s eye is capable of perceiving and understanding the works of Brahma, the Creator, and if Brahma wants to instruct man in social organization, or any other matter, he fur- nishes him models for his study. All man's attempts at social organization are liable to err, and result in disorganization and fail- ure, but ever before his eyes is held up the model of a society taught by Brahma him- self. The ruling principle of that society is that those who will not work, shall be allowed to eat of the labors of the toilers only so long as they continue to perform functions useful to the community. The moment they cease to be useful their doom is fixed. Every creature created by Brahma is created for the performance of useful functions; the moment these cease, Brahma has no further use for it, and the wheels of his chariot roll over it relentlessly. This is the lesson which Brahma is forever preach- ing to man by his servants the bees, a lesson to which my eyes have hitherto been closed, and naturally, for I am myself a drone; but now, oh Ghopal, I thank thee for opening my eyes and teaching me my own useless- ness. Look at the social organization of all the countries of India. The working classes toil not only for their own support, but for the support of the Rajpoots, whose only useful function is to fight and thin each other's ranks; of the Brahmins, whose function is to teach men the will of the gods, but who themselves do not under- Byram and Ghopal. stand it; and of the Bunyans, who lend the laborers their own money, charge seventy- five per cent. compound interest—a rate so usurious that the toilers pay the amount ten times over without lessening their obli- gation, and thus place the Bunyans in a position to enslave fresh victims. Oh, Brahma, was my father’s act in rendering me a cripple a truly pious one? In intent it may have been, but now for the first time I perceive that my life is a useless one, and for the first time I regret that I am incapa- ble of toil. How different would have been the career of the Hindu people if the first fathers of the race had gone to the bees for instruction, and beheld the will of Brahma, that those who will not work shall not eat of the fruits of others’ labors.” “Then you do not hold with Daloora, the Faquir I met at Hyderabad, that that man is a fool who earns his bread by the sweat of his brow?” “Daloora,” said Byram, “aimed at the truth and overshot the mark. The toilers are fools, not because they toil for them- selves, but because they allow others to reap the fruits of their labors.” Once more they started on their journey, but the money was still in Byram’s girdle, and Ghopal’s heart sank within him as he thought that perhaps some of it might be given in charity before he could catch Byram without any good defense. Steadily and silently he trudged along the road, but never before had he found Byram so heavy as on this evening; but he fought bravely against despondency, and after reaching Dowlutpore and partaking of the bread and milk supplied by the pious and solacing himself with his hookah, his courage revived and he renewed the dispute with Byram, combating him at every step, but only to be more than ever convinced that the bees’ treatment of the drones was a valuable lesson for man, and one which all societies of men would do well to profit and take example by. HE AUDUBN NOPE BOOK: MEMBERSHIP RETURNS. Ir has frequently been observed that there is a relation between ethics and climate, and certain it is that the Audubon Society does not expand at its normal ratio with the thermometer coquetting with the ‘‘nineties’’ in the shade. The registrations for July amounted to only 1,429, leaving the Society with a total registered strength of 37,453 at the close of themonth. The following is the order in which the several States and Territories contributed to the increase for the month: PNW Oceans 31a ceca a QS LOKEP OMe sate w= = aja see I Massachusetts........... 152 Pennsylvania............ 83 New Hampshire......... xx West Virginia........... Ir New Jersey. Virginia.. 3 Vermont.... Florida . 5 Connecticut Georpiayecs.: 25. scarcer 2 Rhode Island SPennescees << oe sna 4 Maine ........ SOXAS wiala'a|siaiats So5) go0c005 I UG Sa BE ee 40 District of Columbia..... 20 WSANISAS Pan toe cine sce 4 Maryland 15 ABO SA Te ses osagconasesc tg Kentucky I5 WO aeterieiowane since sa 7x California 3 BNE Drcts ict oc atcin slolnisiaieceiaiete 6 4 Wisconsin... ~o ay ©} 40 Utah Territory.......... 7 1,429 C. F. AMEry, General Secretary. THE AUDUBON BADGE, So long delayed and so impatiently waited for by many, was ready for distribution the first week in August, and we have every cause to be gratified with its favorable reception. It is a brooch pin of coin silver, with motto and monogram as in the design. Price, fifty cents. ENGLISH PRESS ON FEATHER MILLINERY. IT Is incorrect to say that the London dealers are offering larger prices this season for sea birds. The fashion of wearing feathers is declining, and, there- fore, the dealers are slow to purchase, even at last year’s prices, and some of them have cancelled orders. There are not so many gunners engaged in the pursuit this season.— Yorkshire Post. I fear it is of little use—the love of finery swamps kindness in so many women’s breasts—or I would second the plea of a naturalist who sadly draws at- tention to the heartless destruction of the egrets and herons in Florida. The “‘osprey” feathers prized by ladies are pro- duced on the birds during the breeding season, and, the sportsmen who supply the demand shoot the old birds and leave the young ones to starve in their nests by thousands. Dead bird decoration is a barbarous practice, but, if fashion demanded it, some women would wear their own dead babies with as little remorse as they don the corpses of victims in all branches of the animal creation.—Zondon Weekly Times and Echo. WHAT BIRD IS IT? A LADY from Rochester writes: the country, where I saw and heard so many birds we seldom see or hear at home, although we live in the suburbs. One old friend greeted me—a little brown bird that sings in our orchard. I didn’t know his name, although I had been trying for three years to find out. “T have been to Here was my opportunity. I summoned the farmer and asked him if he knew the bird. ‘‘Oh, yes,” he replied promptly, ‘‘ that’s a little brown bird that sings around here.” ‘‘I was so thankful for the information,” adds our corre- spondent. THE paper in this issue describing the working organization of the Smith College Audubon Society will interest many of our readers. How many of our most ardent supporters, after canvassing schools and finding a majority of the young people easily in- terested in bird protection, have not felt that some- thing was necessary to keep the interest alive? To all such who have opportunities for field work the example of the Smith College Society may be fol- lowed with profit. For those who have not, the in- formation should be sought in books. It is a great mistake to limit the work of the Society to proselyt- ing. ALTHOUGH the wood thrush does not usually seek the society of man, there appear to be some excep- tions. A correspondent writing from Flushing, this State, early in August, reported a wood thrush’s nest with young in a tree close to her house. A week later she reported, ‘‘ The wood thrush’s family has disappeared, and we can only conjecture whether the young ones were able to fly away, or whether they fell from the nest and were caught by the cat.” We fear it was an error of judgment on the wood thrush’s part to build so near the house. 190 The Audubon Society. THE AUDUBON SOCIETY FOR THE PROTEC- TION OF BIRDS. HE AUDUBON SOCIETY was founded in New York city in February, 1886. Its purpose is the protection of American birds, not used for food, from destruction for mer- cantile purposes, The magnitude of the evil with which the Society will cope,and the imperative need of the work which it proposes to accomplish, are outlined in the following state- ment concerning THE DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS, Within the last few years, the destruction of our birds has increased at a rate which is alarming. This destruction now takes place on such a large scale as to seriously threaten the existence of a number of our most useful species. It is carried on chiefly by men and boys who sell the skins or plumage to be used for ornamental purposes—principally for the trimming of women’s hats, bonnets and clothing. These men kill every- thing that wears feathers. The birds of the woods, the birds of the field, the birds of the marsh and those of the sea are alike slain, at all times and at allseasons. It matters not if the bird be a useful one which devours the hurtful insects which destroy the farmer's crops, or a bright-plumaged song- ster whose advent has been welcomed in spring, and which has reared its brood in the door yard during the summer, or a swift-winged sea swallow whose flight along the shore has often with unerring certainty led the fisherman to his finny prey— whatever it be, it must be sacrificed to the bird butcher's lust for slaughter and for gain. Besides the actual destruction of the birds, their numbers are still further diminished by the practice of robbing their nests in the breeding season. Although it is impossible to get at the number of birds killed each year, some figures have been published which give an idea of what the slaughter must be. We know that a single local taxidermist handles 30,000 bird skins in one year; that a single collector brought back from a three months trip 11,000 skins; that from one small district on Long Island about 70,000 Lirds were brought to New York in four months time. In New York one firm had on hand February 1, 1886, 200,000 skins. The supply is not limited by domestic consumption. Ameri- can bird skins aresent abroad. The great European markets draw their supplies from all over the world. In London there were sold in three months from one auction room, 404,464 West Indian and Brazilian bird skins, and 356,389 East Indian birds. In Paris 100,000 African birds have been sold by one dealer in one year. One New York firm recently had a contract to supply 40,000 skins of American birds to one Paris firm. These figures tell their own story—but it is a story which might be known even without them; we may read it plainly enough in the silent hedges, once vocal with the morning songs of birds. and in the deserted fields where once bright plumage flashed in the sunlight. BIRDS, INSECTS AND CROPS. The food of our small birds consists very largely of the insects which feed on the plants grown by the farmer. These insects multiply with such spounding rapidity that a single air may in ake course of one season be the progenitors of six illions of their kind. All through the season at which this insect life is most active, the birds are constantly at work destroying for their young and for themselves, tens of thou- sands of hurtful creatures, which, but for them, would swarm upon the farmer's crops and lessen the results of his labors. A painstaking and ardent naturalist not very long ago watched the nest of a pair of martins for sixteen hours, from 4 A. M. till 8 P. M., just to see how many visits the parent birds made to their young. He found that in that time 312 visits to the four young were made, 119 by the male and 193 by the female. If we suppose only six insects to have been brought at each visit, this pair of birds would have destroyed, for their young alone, in this one summer's day, not far from 2,000 insects. The important relations which our birds bear to the agricultural interests and so to the general welfare, are recog- nized by the governments of all our States. Laws exist for their protection, but these laws are rendered inoperative by the lack of an intelligent public sentiment to support them, They are nowhere enforced, It is for the interest of every one that such a public sentiment should be created. It is time that this destruction were stopped. PURPOSE OF THE AUDUBON SOCIETY. To secure the protection of our birds by awakening a better sentiment, the Audubon Society, named after the greatest of American ornithologists, has been founded, The objects sought to be accomplished by this Society are to prevent as far as possible — (x) The killing of any wild bird not used for food. bie The taking or destroying of the eggs or nests of any wild irds. (3) The wearing of the feathers of wild birds. Ostrich feathers, whether hs wild or tame birds, and those of domes- tic fowls, are specially exempted. The Audubon Society aims especially to preserve those birds which are now practically without protection. Our zame birds are already protected by law, and in large measure = public sentiment, and their care may be left to the sports- man, The great aim of the Society is the protection of American non-game birds, Fhe English sparrow is not included in our lists, PLAN OF THE WORK. Obviously the Society cannot supply any machinery of com- pulsion to lead individuals and communities to a higher regard for bird life and to efforts for its protection. Nor are compulsory measures thought necessary. The wrong is toler- ated now only because of thoughtlessness and indifference. The birds are killed for millinery purposes. So long as fashion demands bird feathers, the birds will be slaughtered. The remedy is to be found in the awakening of a healthy pub- lic sentiment on the subject. If this enormous destruction of birds can once be put in its true light before the eyes of men and women and young folks, if interest be aroused and senti- ment created, the great wrong must cease. To so present the case to the people as to awaken this corrective sentiment is the special Bee contemplated by the Audubon Society. The methods adopted are very simple. Pledges are furnished, sub- scription to which constitutes membership, and certificates are issued to members, TERMS OF MEMBERSHIP. The signing of any of the pledges will qualify one for mem- bership in the Society. It is earnestly desired that each mem- ber may sign all three of the pledges. Beyond the promise contained in the pledge no obligation nor responsibility is in- curred. There are no fees, nor dues, nor any expenses of an kind, There are no conditions as to age. The boys and girls are invited to take part in the work, for they can often do more than others to practically protect the nesting birds. All who are interested in the subject are invited to become mem- bers, and to urge their friends to join the Society. If each man, woman or child who reads this circular will exert his or her influence, it will not take long to enlist in the good work a great number of people actively concerned in the protection of our birds. It is desired that members may be enrolled in every town and village throughout the land, so that by the moral weight of its influence this Society may check the slaughter of our beautiful songsters. The beneficent influence of the Audubon Society should be exerted in every remotest by-way where the songs of birds fill the air, and in every crowded city pera the plumes of slain songsters are worn as an article of Tess, ers ASSOCIATE co een s s there are a very great number o' ple in full sympathy with the Audubon S eemenel and ready to lend it their moral support, but who refrain from joining the Society simply be- cause they find it distasteful to sign a pledge, it has been determined to form a class of Associate Members. Any one expressing his or her sympathy with the objects of the Audu- bon Society and submitting a written request for membership to any local secretary, will be enrolled on the list of Associate Members. All such applications for membership received by local secretaries of the Society should be forwarded to the General Secretary for registration. LOCAL SECRETARIES. 5 The Society has local secretaries in cities, towns and villages. The local secretary will furnish this circular of information and pledge forms; will receive the signed pledges, keep a list of the members, forward a duplicate list with the pledges for enrollment and file at the Society’s office; and will receive in return certificates of membership, to be filled out and signed by the local secretary and given to the members. No certi~ ficate of membership will be issued cto any pee except upon the receipt of a signed pledge at the office of the Society. Where no local secreta Es yet been ap) jointed, individual applicants for membership may address the Society at its office, No, 40 Park Row, New York. ee If there is no local secretary in your town, you are invited to actas such yourself, or to hand this to some other person who will accept the office. Upon application we will supply copies of this circular and pledge forms. THE AUDUBON SOCIETY CERTIFICATE. : The Society furnishes to each member a handsome certificate of membership. This bears a portrait of the great naturalist, John James Audubon, after whom the Society very appro- priately takes its name. : The office of the Society is at 40 Park Row, New York city. All communications SEAib be addressed THE AUDUBON SOCIETY, No. 40 Park Row, New York. Print Your Own Cards ! PRESS $3, Circular size $8, Newspaper size $44. Type setting easy; printed directions. d 2 stamps for list presses, type, etc., to factory, = KELSEY & CO., Meriden, Conn. AUDUBON MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 191 Oo See ereosnczas—o [G) WDEVOESE OFFICES:CR.FULTON &WILLIANSD NEW YORKG ARTISTS © MATERIALS. SKETCHING OUTFITS® OF ALLKINDS TUBE COLORS: WATER LORS CRAYONS DRAWING PAPER: CANVASDRUSHES O1b53 MEDIUMS: MATHEMATICAL INSTRUMENTS HOUSE PAINTERS COLORS FRES(e CLORS: FINE VARNISHES Corresbondence inviled-Cafalogues cf our different | departments To responsible barfies. BY COFFIN-DEVOE & Ce-176 RANDOLPHS®-ChICAG OF CS™eseetaneisaeans=—S E.& H.T. ANTHONY & CO. ; 591 Broadway, N.Y. Manufacturers and Importers of PHOTOGRAPHIC + + INSTRUMENTS, Apparatus and Supplies OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, SUSI OMEN ASD ) & a [3 i 2 ‘ | Sa TE y Sole proprietors of the Patent Detec- \ tive, Fairy, Novel and Bicycle ey Cameras, and the Celebrated Stan- ley Dry Plates. 4 Amateur Outfits in great variety ¢ from $9.00 upwards. Send for catalogue or call and examine. i =" More than Forty Years Estab- lished in this line of business. FOUR FIRST ae MEDALS AWARDED HUSBAND’ SI EXHIBITIONS. More agreeable to the taste and smaller dose than other Magnesia. For sale at Druggists and Country Stores, in bottles only, with U. S. Govern- ment Registered Label attached, with- out which none is genuine. And by T. J. HUSBAND, JR., Philadelphia, Pa. The Universal Fashion Co.’s Cut Paper PATTERNS, for Ladies’ and Children’s Gar- ments, are acknowledged to be the best in existence. Correct sty les’ and perfect fit. Ladies, send for a Catalogue of UNIVERSAL PATTERNS free to any address, or 15 cents for the ALBUM OF FASHIONS, a handsome folio book with over 1,000 illustrations and descriptions. UNIVERSAL FASHION COMPANY, 40 East 12th st., New York. A. J. Cammeyer, 165, 167 & 169 SIXTH AVE., Cor. 12TH STREET, New York CITY. Achilles, the greatest warrior of the elder world, could only receive his death wound in his heel. Many men and women have died since his day by receiving their death blow also upon the foot, discovering all too late that this was a vital part of the body. Wet feet, cold feet, hot and perspiring feet, are as dangerous to health and life as the wound that slew Achilles. Be wise in time and cover your feet properly, and protect them from the rapid and extreme changes of our climate. I have every sort and variety of Shoes for Men, Women and children, thus providing the amplest care, comfort, protection and safeguards for the feet in every necessity and emergency. Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Button Boots, 3.00 Rem Pare Ladies’ Kid-Top, Straight Patent Leather Tip, Hand- Sewed Welt Button Boots boncaubas sodescooccddde 33.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat Button Boots.. 3.0co Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Curacoa Kid Button Boots... 3.00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt, Straight Goat, Foxed Kid- Top, Waukenphast Button Boots..... ........-.... 3-00 Ladies’ Hand-Sewed Welt Calf, Foxed Kid-Top, Wau- ikenphast Button boutss-eaceiecesieenieces eta 3.00 These Shoes are especially designed to take the place of the highest grade custom work of the finest material and finish, and the best workmanship that can be produced. I do not hesitate to warrant them equal to any custom made that are sold from $6 to $7 per pair, and at almost half the price. They are made in every variety, shape and form, and it makes no difference what the preference may be, I can guarantee a per- fect fit and satisfaction in every instance. CANVAS SHOES. My stock of Canvas Shoes of every description for Ladies, Misses and Children is now complete, such as Lawn Tennis, Bicycle, Yachting, and for all outdoor sporting purposes, at astonishingly low prices. I have tireless shoes for walkers, wing like slippers for dan- cers, dressy shoes for promenaders, low shoes for the comfort- loving ; in fact every kind of foot covering for Men, Women and Children, and at prices much Icwer than the same quality and make of goods are sold for elsewhere. People out of town should send for Illustrated Catalogue, which is mailed free on application. A. J. CAMMEYER, Sixth Avenue & Twelfth Street. 192 AUDUBON MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. a es THE’ SCHOGL @F HOME: Let the school of home be a good one. Let the reading at home be such as to quicken the mind for better reading still; for the school at home is progressive. The baby is to be read to. What shall mother and sister and father and brother read to the baby? BaBpyLaNnb. Babyland rhymes and jingles; great big letters and little thoughts and words out of BaAByLAND, Pictures so easy to understand that baby quickly learns the meaning of light and shade, of distance, of tree, of cloud. The grass is green; the sky is blue; the flowers—are they red or yellow? That depends on mother’s house- plants. Baby sees in the picture what she sees in the home and out of the window. BABYLAND, mother’s monthly picture- and-jingle primer for baby’s diversion, and baby’s mother-help. Babies are near enough alike. LAND fits them all; 50 cents a year. to D. Lothrop Company, Boston. One Basy- Send What, when baby begins to read for her- self? Why /erself and not Azmself? Turn about is fair play—If man means man and woman too, why shouldn’t little girls in- clude the boys? Our Lirtt—E Men AnD WOMEN is an- other monthly made to go on with. Basy- LAND forms the reading habit. Think ofa baby with the reading habit! After a little she picks up the letters and wants to know what they mean. The jingles are jingles still; but the tales that lie below the jingles begin to ask questions. _ What do Jack and Jill go up the hill after water for? Isn’t the water down hill? Baby is outgrowing BABYLAND, Our Lirrte Men and WOMEN comes next. No more nonsense. ‘There is fun enough in sense. The world is full of in- teresting things; and, if they come to a growing child not in discouraging tangles but an easy one at a time, there is fun enough in getting hold of them. ‘That is the way to grow. Our LirTLe MEN AnD WomeEN helps such growth as that. Begin- nings of things made easy by words and pictures; not too easy. The reading habit has got to another stage. You may send a dollar to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, for such a school as that for one year. Then comes THE Pansy with stories of child-life, tales of travel at home and abroad, adventure, history, old and new religion at home and over the seas, and roundabout tales on the International Sun- day School Lesson. Pansy the editor; Tur Pansy the maga- zine. There are thousands and thousands of children and children of larger growth all over the country who know about Pansy the writer, and THe Pansy the magazine. There are thousands and thousands more who will be glad to know. Send to D. Lothrop Company, Boston, a dollar a year for THE Pansy. : The reading habit is now pretty well es- tablished; not only the reading habit, but liking for useful reading; and useful read- ing leads to learning. Now comes WipE AWAKE, vigorous, hearty, not to say heavy. No, it isn’t heavy, though full as it can be of practical help along the road to sober manhood and womanhood. Full as it can be? There is need of play as well as of work; and W1DE AWAKE has its mixture of work and rest and play. The work is all toward self-im- provement; so is the rest; and so is the play. Send D. Lothrop Company, Boston, $2.40 a year for WIDE AWAKE. Specimen copies of all the Lothrop mag- azines for fifteen cents; any one for five— in postage stamps. ; [i> sae we Dt ees aS NS wa eee BROWN THRASHER. ( Harporhyne hus rufus (LINN.) ) itm AUDUBON MAGAZINE. WoL, I. AMIENS, (OTN INC Mas CONS” YO Makny | a preceding numbers our readers have been made acquainted with the life history and labors of the great naturalist. They have followed him through all his vicissitudes from the cradle to the grave, through twenty years of wanderings in the woods, in which he was sustained only by an enthusiastic love for nature, and a desire to render his life’s work a monument which should command the admiration of his own and succeeding generations. They have seen him again and again crippled for want of means, and becoming in turn portrait- painter, dancing-master, school-teacher, but only that he might raise the necessary funds for the pursuit of his grand passion. They have seen him regarded by his neighbors as little better than a talented, shiftless vaga- bond, but amid all this, toiling steadfastly onward to the goal which he reached to be crowned with honor, to take his place among the great ones of the earth, and to enter on the well won heritage of his labors. But all this is not enough. We have the man’s life history, and the nature and meas- ure of the work he did, but something still is wanting to our estimate of the man—we want to know what manner of man he was, what were the salient traits of his charac- ter, the mainsprings of his actions. On this point an eloquent and apprecia- tive writer says: “For sixty years or more he followed, with more than religious devo- OCTOBER, 1887. I, JAMES AUDUBON. tion, a beautiful and elevated pursuit, en— larging its boundaries by his discoveries,,. and illustrating its objects by his art. In all climates and in all weathers; scorched by burning suns, drenched by piercing rains, frozen by the fiercest colds; now diving fearlessly into the densest forest, now wan- dering alone over the most savage regions; in perils, in difficulties, and in doubts; with no companion to cheer his way, far from the smiles and applause of society; listen- ing only to the sweet music of birds, or to the sweeter music of his own thoughts, he faithfully kept his path. The records of man’s life contain few nobler examples of strength of purpose and indefatigable en- ergy. Led on solely by his pure, lofty, kindling enthusiasm, no thirst for wealth, no desire of distinction, no restless ambi- tion of eccentric character, could have in- duced him to undergo as many sacrifices. or sustained him under so many trials, Higher principles and worthier motives alone enabled him to meet such discour- agements and accomplish such miracles of achievement.” Another writer on the same subject, and in a similar generous strain, says: ‘“ Audubon was a man of genius, with the courage of a lion and the simplicity of a child. One scarcely knows which to admire most—the mighty determination which enabled him to carry out his great work in the face of. 196 difficulties so huge, or the gentle and guile- less sweetness with which he throughout shared his thoughts and aspirations with his wife and children.” Of the first of these encomiums it may be said that it was mainly true, but not the whole truth; of the second, that it was true in detail but faulty in perspective. These opinions give us the impression of a strong man entering in youth upon a definite pur- suit with settled aims, and striving steadily ‘toward the goal, calm in his self-reliance, ‘sustained by the confidence in his own powers to command success. There are such men, but to class Audubon in this category would be to miss the great lesson of his life. Audubon was endowed with a pure and lofty nature, but his was not a strong character. He displayed traits which command our admiration and love, but his was not a whole, well-rounded nature, em- bracing even the essential conditions of success. One essential characteristic at least was wanting—the capacity for self- denial; and of Audubon it may be asked as justly as of any man, “To whom was he indebted for his success?” for the great lesson of his life lies in our recognition of the fact that he triumphed in the strength of another, who moulded his character, shaped his aims, gave substance to his dreams, and finally, by the exercise of that self-denial which he was incapable of as a long-sustained effort, won for him the pub- lic recognition and reward of his splendid talents. Who shall measure Audubon’s indebtedness to the lofty character of his gentle, loving wife? Evidences of the correctness of this esti- are to be found thickly scattered through Audubon’s note book, and we can- not do better than take up the study of the man as he has pictured himself during the few months preceding his introduction to Lucy Bakewell, the gentle, revered “ Min- nie”’ of later days. mate ” “T had no vices,” he writes in his jour- The Character of John Fames Audubon. nal, “but was thoughtless, pensive, loving, fond of shooting, fishing and riding, and had a passion for raising all sorts of fowls, which sources of interest and amusement fully occupied all my time. It was one of my fancies to be ridiculously fond of dress, to hunt in black satin breeches, wear pumps when shooting, and dressed in the finest ruffled shirts I could obtain from France.” * * * * « All the while I was fair and rosy, strong as any one of my age and sex could be, and as active and agile as a buck.” Here we have a picture of a cultivated young man of fine physique, good health, good looks, trained in habits of self-indul- gence and without other object in life than their gratification; attached to the wild life of the woods, in which he shot and painted and dreamed; an artist, but in no sense of the word a worker, a dreamer in love with nature and with himself; with undeveloped capacities, and conspicuous for nothing so much as for the amiable vanity which found its expression in the display of himself in black satin breeches, imported ruffled shirts and pumps, as a shooting costume. But in accepting this sketch as a true picture of Audubon in his youth, we con- sciously or unconsciously render homage to the simple truthfulness of the artist who in attempting to present a picture of himself delineated his own chatacter as far as he knew it, with the same rare fidelity to nature that characterized his paintings and descrip- tions of birds. Here we have something solid to build upon. An unswerving, simple adherence to truth is one of the prime ele- ments of human greatness, a characteristic which cannot co-exist with anything mean or ignoble; and every phase of the man’s after life and work indicates clearly that simple truthfulness was a leading character- istic of his nature. A second characteristic portrayed in the picture is his craving for admiration, Some of Audubon’s critics have charged him with inordinate vanity, while his admirers have The Brown Thrasher. indignantly argued that there could be no place in his great nature for such a foible, but the dispute is less about a question of fact than of correctness of definition. The display of vanity by a small or mean man is sure to render him ridiculous, if not con- temptible; but when the craving for admi- ration exists in a lofty nature along with talent and high capacities, it becomes the mainspring of action, the spur to grand achievement, the sustaining power in diff- culty and temporary defeat. It is rarely a characteristic of men of science, but very generally ascribable to those who win dis- tinction in arms or art or song. This desire for appreciation, with its at- tendant sensitiveness to slights, was cer- tainly a most conspicuous, if not dominant trait in Audubon’s character, a weakness truly in so far as it rendered him unduly sensitive, but none the less the prime source of his strength, the one inborn trait of his character to which more than any other he owed his success. If we now turn again to Audubon’s pic- 197 ture of himself in the light of this analysis of his most salient characteristics, we shall be able to form a better estimate of his native character and capacities. Audubon at this time had placed no higher, no more practical object in life before him than self- indulgence—the gratification of his instinc- tive cravings; but, on the other hand, his vanity was simply a craving for distinction, and combined with a lofty nature, was just the force necessary to arouse him from his dreamy self-indulgence and spur him on to achieve something which would enable him to command the esteem which he craved. Add to this that his favorite pursuit was a comparatively untrodden field for investi- gation, that he had successfully cultivated a talent for painting, that he had a grand physique, latent capacities for sustained effort, enthusiasm, and above all, that simple devotion to truth which prevented his ac- cepting any conclusious which were not based on actual observation, and we have all or nearly all the elements necessary to the formation of a great naturalist. THE BROWN HE scene represented in the plate which forms the frontispiece of this month’s AUDUBON is one of the most pow- erful of the naturalist’s plates, and it has added interest because it portrays an actual incident which came under the naturalist’s observation, A black snake has climbed into the bush in which a pair of Brown Thrashers have built their nest, and is about to devour their eggs. With heroic courage the parent birds rush to the de- fense of their treasures, and with loud cries summon to their assistance others of their kind. The robber is fiercely attacked, but in the struggle one of the parents is caught and crushed in the cruel coils. Undeterred by this, the others keep up the attack, and THRASHER. in the end, the naturalist tells us, though their nest was overturned and the eggs lost, the snake was defeated and killed, and the crushed bird, though sorely hurt, recovered and was restored to her mate. Ina case like this our sympathies are all with the birds, yet who can doubt that the snake has his place in the economy of Nature? The Brown Thrush, or as it is more often called, the Brown Thrasher, is an abundant bird throughout the eastern United States, its range westward being apparently limited by the Rocky Mountains, among which it was found in Colorado by Mr. Allen up to a height of 7,500 feet. It winters in the Southern States in great numbers, and is there called French Mock- 198 ingbird or Sandy Mockingbird, to distin- guish it from the true mockingbird. In summer it proceeds as far north as Canada, Audubon having seen it in Nova Scotia, while it has been reported as occurring at Lake Winnipeg and along the Saskatche- wan River. This sweet songster breeds throughout its whole range. In Louisiana, according to Audubon, its nest is built in March, while in New York and Connecticut, where it arrives from the South about the last of April, it does not accomplish its house Building much before the middle of May, and further to the North it is still later. The courtship of the female by the male is accompanied by curious and interesting actions. The eager suitor for favor struts about the female with his tail dragging on the ground and bows before her in his efforts to win her favor. If she is kind to him, his whole form quivers with delight and he gives vent to his happiness in bursts «ef song which are only excelled in beauty and variety by the notes of the famed mockingbird. Audubon tells us that in the Southern States ‘‘the nest is found close to the house of the planter, along with that of the mock- ingbird,” but in our Northern and Eastern States this is, we think, never the case. Here the Brown Thrasher is quite a shy bird and much prefers to build its nest far from the home of man, choosing hedgerows along fields or low bramble bushes at the edges of thickets. The nest is usually placed on, or close to, the ground, and is composed without of coarse twigs, sticks and weed stalks, mingled with dried leaves, strips of bark, and sometimes grass, and is almost always lined with fibrous roots, and occasionally with horse hair. Usually it is a coarse, bulky structure with no preten- Al- though the nest is commonly placed on the ground or within a few inches of it, it is sometimes built ina bush, and Mr. Allen sions whatever to beauty or elegance. The Brown Thrasher. has given us an interesting note of a case where the birds in self-defense were obliged to quite depart from their usual custom in locating their nests. Speaking of this species in Kansas he says: ‘We found its nests, containing full sets of eggs, at Leavenworth during the first week of May. Here the nests were built in low bushes, the soil being clayey and damp; but at Topeka, toward the end of May, we found nests on the ground, the soil being dry and sandy. At Ft. Hayes its nests were usually placed in trees, sixteen to twenty feet from the ground, to avoid the contingency of floods. The trees here grow principally along the bed of Big Creek; and the stream being subject in summer to sudden freshets, the scattered undergrowth, as well as the low branches of the trees, are thus often sub- merged, so that any nests built on or near the ground would be liable to be destroyed by the rise of the stream. The driftal débris adhering to the trees serves to mark the ‘high water’ line, and we rarely found a bird’s nest below this limit. These birds, that usually breed near the ground, in bushes or on the low branches of trees, thus modified their habits to suit the exigencies of the locality.”’ The eggs of this species are from four to six in number, and are yellowish or greenish in color, thickly sprinkled with fine dots of brown. The young are readily reared by hand, and do well in captivity, and being such sweet songsters they are a favorite cage bird. They begin to sing in the autumn and by the following spring have attained their full powers. Their habits in captivity are quite inter- esting, and we may quote quite fully on this point from Audubon and Nuttall. The former says: “My friend Bachman, who has raised many of these birds, has favored me with the following particulars respect- ing them: ‘Though good-humored toward the person who feeds them, they are always savage toward all other kinds of birds. I The Brown placed three sparrows in the cage of a Thrush one evening and found them killed, as well as nearly stripped of their feathers, the next morning. So perfectly gentle did this bird become that when I opened its cage it would follow me about the yard and garden. The instant itsaw me take aspade or hoe, it would follow at my heels, and as I turned up the earth, would pick up every insect or worm thus exposed to its view. I kept it for three years, and its affection for me at last cost it its life. It usually slept on the back of my chair in my study, and one night the door being accidentally left open, it was killed by a cat.’” Nuttall having spoken of the affection and the jealousy manifested by one of these birds which he had reared and kept uncaged for some time, says: “I may also add, that besides a playful turn for mischief and in- terruption in which he would sometimes snatch off the paper on which I was writing, he had a good deal of curiosity, and was much surprised one day by a large spring- ing beetle or later (£. occellatus), which I had caught and placed in a tumbler. On all such occasions his looks of capricious surprise were very amusing; he cautiously approached the glass with fanning and closing wings, and in an undertone con- fessed his surprise at the address and jump- ing motion of the huge insect. At length he became bolder, and perceiving it had a relation to his ordinary prey of beetles, he, with some hesitation, ventured to snatch at the prisoner between temerity and playful- ness. But when really alarmed or offended, he instantly flew to his perch, forbid all friendly approaches, and for some time kept up his low angry ¢skerr. My late friend, the venerable William Bartram, was also much amused by the intelligence displayed by this bird, and relates that one which he kept, being fond of hard bread crumbs, found, when they grated his throat, a very rational remedy in softening them by soak- ing in his vessel of water; he likewise by Thrasher. 199 experience discovered that the painful prick of the wasps, on which he fed, could be obviated by extracting their stings.” One of these birds which we had in captivity greatly enjoyed being taken out of his cage at night and carried about the room perched on the forefinger to capture the flies at rest on the kitchen walls. The Brown Thrasher, as has been inti- mated, is a courageous bird, devotedly at- tached to its mate and young and ready under all circumstances to do battle in their defense. All four-footed enemies who ap- proach the nest are fiercely attacked, and even its human persecutors might be ap- palled by the fury of the parents’ onslaught. The males are somewhat given to fighting among themselves, and during the mating season severe battles often take place for the favor of some coveted female. The food of this species consists chiefly of insects, worms and beetles being favor- ite articles of diet with it, but it also eats the berries of the sumach as well as those of the dogwood, the choke cherry and the wild grape. The Brown Thrasher usually rears two broods of young, and soon after those of the second hatching are able to take care of themselves, the families separate. The migration southward begins about the first of October, and the birds journey singly, making short low flights along the hedges or through the woods. These birds are very fond of dusting themselves in sand or dust after the man- ner of the common fowl, and may often be surprised at this in countryroads. Insuch cases they do not usually fly away, but run with surprising quickness into the nearest thicket, where they remain concealed until the danger is past. They are also very fond of bathing in water, and after doing this ascend by hopping from branch to branch to the topmost spray of some neigh- boring tree, where with all their feathers spread out to the sun and the breeze, they 200 make the air vocal with their harmonious strains. The Brown Thrasher is 1134 inches in length and 13 in extent of wings. Its bill is black, the base of the lower man- dible being dark blue. The eye is yellow. The feet are brown. The general color of Hints to Audubon Workers. the upper parts is bright reddish brown. The wings are crossed with two white bars margined in front with black. The lower parts are yellowish white spotted on the breast and sides with triangular dark brown spots. The under tail coverts are pale brownish red. ‘The tail is very long. ECEINGS sO FIFTY COMMON REDSTART. ieee than some of the warblers, the redstart is about the size of a chippy. In habit, however, he is more like the fly- catchers than the sparrows. Indeed, it is probably from his flycatcher-like way of starting up unexpectedly that he received his name; for then you see the blotches of rich salmon that mark his wings and tail, which are hidden when he is quiet. His back and throat are black. Each side of his breast is ornamented with a patch of bright salmon-red. The female has no black on her breast, is olivaceous above, and light yellow where the male is salmon. Like the flycatchers, they are fluffy in appearence, and sit with their wings droop- ing at their sides. Their diet also consists of insects. But although they have so many mannerisms of the flycatcher, they are true warblers in the mad way in which they career about, opening and shutting their tails fan-fashion, turning somersaults, flitting from branch to branch, giving a little burst of song, and then fluttering around chasing helter-skelter the bushes; suddenly falling through the leaves as if they had been shot, only to snap up their hapless prey and dart off to begin their manoeuvres over again. They are very winning, friendly little again among * CopyriGuT, 1887, by FLorence A. MerrIAM. AUDUBON BIRDS AND Wis WORKERS.* HOW TO KNOW THEM, creatures, and build pretty nests of fine roots, birch bark and flower cotton, or simi- larly dainty materials. According to in- dividual preference, they make their houses in crotches of apple trees, low roadside bushes, or in saplings in open woods. They take good care to select bark the color of the tree, and in that way defy any but the sharpest scrutiny. The little housewife will sometimes fly to her nest with strips of bark four inches long in her bill. When her gray house is nearly finished she has a pretty way of sitting inside and leaning over the edge of her nest to smooth the outside with her bill and neck, as if she were moulding it. The redstart’s song is a fine, hurried warbler trill that he accents on the end as if glad it was done. cP ep to he ee Te-ha-te-ha- te- ha - te - ha-teek'. One morning, as I was watching a young hairy woodpecker, the alarm of a redstart attracted my attention. She eyed me from all sides, keeping up her nervous, worried cry. It was so significant that I began looking in the crotches for its nest, and finding none, concluded that the young The mother kept flying about me, and the father—a young male with the scarlet just coming out on the sides of his breast—showed a moderate amount of paternal anxiety. Suddenly I discovered were out. Flints to Audubon Workers. one of the baby birds, a scrawny, gray little thing, sitting on the dead branch of a fallen tree. As I came near him his mother’s distress was pitiful. She flew about as if distraught, now trying to attract my atten- tion in the opposite direction by crying out and fluttering her wings beseech- ingly. Then, finding that I still persisted in looking toward the little fellow, flying down between us, and trying to interest me in her, so that I would follow her away. I was very anxious to see if she would “trail,” and so was merciless. I walked up toward the trembling young bird and raised my hand as if to take him. At that moment I turned to look at the mother, and she was trying another device. She assumed in- difference, as if divining that my interest in her was greater than in her little bird; but all the time her eyes were fixed on me, and just before the little one flew away from my approaching hand she darted down and flew about wildly, trailing, as I had hoped. It was pitiful to see her distress, and having taken a good look at her I retreated as fast as possible. Instead of spreading her wings and tail and dragging them on the ground as the ovenbird does, she spreads and drags her tail, while she flutters her wings with a tremulous motion. This is much more effec- tive—suggestive of weakness and helpless- ness to the hungry animal who finds a fat, full-grown bird more appetizing than a scrawny youngster—suggestive of anguish to the man, to whom it seems an appeal for mercy. The love of knowledge seemed a feeble excuse for giving a poor little mother such a scare, but I consoled myself by thinking that she would be all the more wary when real danger threatened. KINGBIRD; BEE MARTIN. The kingbird is noticeably smaller than the robin, but is larger and more compactly built than most of the flycatchers. His back is a dark blackish-ash. Most of his 201 breast is a clear white. He has a crest that partially conceals a flame-colored crown. The end of his tail is bordered with white, so that when he spreads it out in flying it gives the effect of a white crescent. He has a peculiar flight, holding his head up and using his wings in a labored way, as if he were swimming. When looking for his dinner he has a way of fluttering ob- liquely up into the air, displaying his shin- ing white breast and fan-shaped tail to the best advantage; and then, probably after securing his mosquito course, soaring delib- erately down to his tree. His note is a peculiarly harsh, scolding twitter. All the disagreeable qualities of the flycatchers seem to center in this bird. His crown proclaims him king, not by right, but by might—such a bickering pugilist, such a domineering autocrat as he is! The crow’s life becomes a burden when his tor- mentor gives chase; and the smaller birds find themselves driven at the point of the bill from the fences they had considered public highway. Mr. Burroughs says: “He is a braggart; and though always snubbing his neighbors, is an arrant coward, and shows the white feather at the slightest display of pluck in his antagonist. I have seen him turn tail toaswallow.” It is a very commonsight to see a crow trying to escape from a worry- ing kingbird; the great creature seems to have no thought of resistance, but takes to his wings at the first alarm. The chase that follows suggested to Thoreau ‘a satel- lite revolving about a black planet.” But he is very charitable, and believes that the kingbird is only trying to protect its young. In Baird, Brewer and Ridgway’s “ History of North American Birds” the same opin- ion is expressed by the author of the article on the kingbird. He says: “My own ob- servations lead me to the conclusion that writers have somewhat exaggerated the quarrelsome disposition of this bird. I have never, or very rarely, known it to 202 molest or attack any other birds than those which its own instinct prompts it to drive away in self-defense, such as hawks, owls, eagles, crows, jays, cuckoos and grackles.” It is certainly much commoner to see it quarreling with such birds, but on two suc- cessive days in the latter part of June I saw it chasing a red-headed woodpecker and a bluebird. Indeed, more than half a cen- tury ago Wilson witnessed the same thing, which he thus described: “I have also seen the red-headed woodpecker, while clinging on the rail of a fence, amuse himself with the violence of the kingbird, and play bo- peep with him round the rail, while the latter, highly irritated, made every attempt, as he swept from side to side, to strike him, but in vain.” In regard to its animosity toward the purple martin, Dr. Brewer says: “The purple martin is said to be the implacable enemy of the kingbird, and one of the few birds with which the latter maintains an unequal contest. Its superiority in flight gives the former great advantages, while its equal courage and strength render it more than a match. Audubon relates an in- stance in which the kingbird was slain in one of these struggles.” But whatever may be the exact limit of his quarrelsomeness, it stops short of home; old kingbirds certainly are very tender guardians of their young. This summer the children of a neighbor- ing hamlet showed me a nest in an old apple tree, and one of the boys climbed up to find out what it was made of. It was empty then, but the young had not left the tree, and the poor father and mother were in the greatest distress. They circled about overhead, and their harsh cries, louder and more piercing than ever, were pitiful to hear. Poor creatures! It was no fault of theirs that they could not tell the dif- erence between a robber and a boy in search of knowledge. They sawa boy climbing up Flints to Audubon Workers. to their nest, close by their little ones. It was enough to terrify the bravest bird. Think what a time they had had deciding that this branch was the best in all the orchard for their nest; how hard they had worked picking up pieces of dead grass and fastening them together for the outside; what a hunt they had had for stray horse- hairs to soften the roots they used for lin- ing; then, when it was done, think of the long days in which the patient mother had sat brooding over the five pretty white eggs, of whose dark speckles she was so proud. How she had talked to her fond husband about the wee birds that at last broke through the shell and opened their mouths for flies. Then think how busy and anxious the old birds were kept getting food enough for the hungry youngsters; what hard work it was to find anything in the long rainy days when there were no insects in the air. How the mother staid on the nest in the worst thunderstorms and kept her little ones dry, though the blinding lightning threatened to splinter the tree; think what frights she had sitting there all alone dark nights, when cats and owls came prowling about after her children, and how either she or the father bird always had to keep watch in the day time to drive off the squirrels, blackbirds, hawks and owls that came to look for them. Think of all these things and remember how fond they were of their pretty babies; how distressed by the dan- gers that threatened them, and you can understand their fright when they saw us— great murderous giants as they took us to be—coming straight to the place where they were hiding their darlings. But when they were flying about most wildly and screaming the loudest, the little birds, who were the cause of all this anxiety, sat among the leaves, erect and stolid, ap- parently indifferent to the cries of their father and mother, as well as to the fact that their white breasts were betraying their whereabouts. Perhaps it was the result of Hints to Audubon Workers. 20 discipline, however, and they were only keeping still for fear their mother would scold them. In any case, the danger was very real to the old birds, and their minds were not relieved till the boy had come down from the nest and we had walked far enough away for them to convince them- selves that their children were all alive and safe. Then they remembered that it was lunch time, and started out after food. They would fly down to the haycocks that stood in the meadow next to the orchard, sit there reconnoitering for a moment, and then jump down into the grass to snap up the unwary insect they had espied. Flying back to the young, they would flirt their wings and tails as they dropped the morsel down into the big gaping red throats. And then in an instant would be off again for a hunt in the air, or about another tree. And so they kept hard at work, looking everywhere, till the appetites of their vo- racious infants were satisfied. As to the exact food of the kingbird, I quote from Baird, Brewer and Ridgway: “The kingbird feeds almost exclusively upon winged insects, and consumes a vast number. It is on this account one of our most useful birds, but, unfortunately for its popularity, it is no respecter of kinds, and destroys large numbers of bees. * * * * Wilson suggests that they destroy only the drones, and rarely, if ever, meddle with the working bees.” De Kay, in the “Ornithology of New York,” extends the range of diet, and says it “Feeds on berries and seeds, beetles, canker-worms, and insects of every descrip- tion. By this, and by his inveterate hos- tility to rapacious birds, he more than com- pensates for the few domestic bees with which he varies his repast.’’ To this De Kay adds the interesting statement that, “Like the hawks and owls, he ejects from his mouth, in the shape of large pellets, all the indigestible parts of insects and berries.” ve PURPLE FINCH. The purple finch is about the size of the song sparrow. He is as fond of singing up in a maple or an evergreen as chippy is of trilling on the lawn, and the result is much more satisfactory, although he does not sing as well as the song sparrow. Now and then you get a sweet liquid note, but for the most part his song is only a bright warble, without beginning or end. The song sparrow, on the contrary, begins, strikes his upper note three times, and then runs down the scale, finishing off usually with a little flourish; but the purple finch seems to sing in circles, with- out much musical sense—nothing but a general feeling that the sun is warm and bright, and there are plenty of buds and seeds to be found near by. Thoreau puts the song in syllables as—a - twitter - witter - witter - wee, a-witter ; witter-wee. His song is at its best when he is in love. Then it has more expression and sweetness, resem- bling the whisper song of the robin; and when he bows and dances before the little brown lady he is trying to win for his bride, his pretty magenta head and back, his rosy throat and white breast, with his graceful ways and tender song, make him a very at- tractive suitor. The brown-streaked, spar- rowy-looking little creature who seems to ignore him at first, can scarcely help feel- ing flattered by the devotion of sucha hand- some cavalier, and you feel sure that his wooing will come to a happy end. With the exception of the nesting season, the purple finches are generally found in flocks, their favorite haunts being woods and orchards. WOOD PEWEE. In size, coloring and habit you will hardly distinguish the wood pewee from the phebe, although the pewee is somewhat smaller. It sits in the same loose-jointed, indifferent fashion, on a dead branch or twig in the woods, darting up spasmodically, snapping 204 its bill over an insect, and then dropping back to its old position with a jerk of the tail and a flutter of the wings. The nest of the pewee, however, is essen- tially woodsey and distinctive. It an exquisite little structure, saddled on to a lichen-covered limb. It is built of fine roots, delicate stems of grass and seed pods being covered with bits of lichen or moss that are glued on with its own saliva, and make it look like a knob on the branch. It is a shallow little nest, and the four richly crowned creamy eggs, though tiny enough in themselves, leave little room for the body of the brooding mother bird. The characters of the two birds also seem to offer a complete contrast. The phoebe is so eminently prosaic and matter-of-fact, that we naturally connect jt with the beams of barns and cow sheds ; while the pewee, as- sociated with the cool depths of the forest, is fitted to inspire poets, and to stir the is Byram and Ghopatl. deepest chords of human nature with its plaintive, far-reaching voice. It has moods for all of ours. lisping ey pu-ee suggests all the happiness of domestic love and peace. At one moment its minor r >e come to me with the liquidity of a “U” of sounde , J is fraught with all the pathos and yearning of a desolated human heart. At another, its tender, motherly Its faint, ' 1 dear-te dear-te dear with which it lulls its little ones, is as sooth- ing to the perplexed and burdened soul as the soft breathing of the wind through the pine needles, or the caressing ripple of the sunset-gilded waves of a mountain lake. FLORENCE A. MERRIAM. BYRAM HOWLUTPOOR, or the city of the wealthy, as its name implies, had been a very prosperous town in times past, but was now no longer of any great impor- tance. There were not more than eighty or a hundred shops in the Bazaar, and the population did not exceed two thousand; but it was the center of a good farming district, and as the farmers were very heay- ily in debt to the money lenders, and the rate of interest uniformly seventy-five per cent. compound interest, the people had enough to eat and the money lenders were Of course the money-lenders never recovered the original debts with all the exorbitant interest. It was more than any people could pay; but in the course of prosperous, centuries they had found out exactly how much, or rather how little, was enough to AND Vas GHOPAL. keep the farmers alive, and they were wise enough not to trench on that little. Indeed, these usurious leeches often enjoy a repu- tation for great liberality, and perhaps they are no worse than the privileged classes in other countries. For the absolute neces- sities of life, a Hindu can always go to his creditors with confidence; they have an in- terest in keeping him alive, but in our Western countries a man’s creditors are the last persons he would think of applying to for relief in his necessity. To this decayed city of Dhowlutpoor came Byram and Ghopal as the sun went down, and many of the money lenders who were seated under the peepul tree at the entrance to the town greeted Byram as he came within hearing, and inquired of his health; and Byram in his turn inquired Byram and Ghopadl. after the welfare of the citizens, and then continued on his way to the Serai, but one of the Bunyans called a lad and bade him go to the Bazaar and inform the people that Byram the Wise was at the Serai, and request them to send supplies; and to his own son he sent orders to furnish two pounds of rice and a quarter of a pound of ghee or clarified butter, and musa/a or curry powder and spices. A young Brahmin presented himself also and volunteered to prepare a repast for Byram, and ere long our travelers were seated at their suppers. This ended, the hookahs were lighted, and many of the townspeople gathered about Byram and entered into conversation and inquired of him abont the places he had seen and the people he had met on his travels since they had last seen him. But Ghopal was weary, and as soon as he had finished his pipe he stretched himself on the cot, and ere long the hum of voices around him was mingled with his dreams. Ghopal had eaten a hearty supper, and strange and fantastic were the dreams that disturbed his slumbers. He dreamed that he was dead, and that his spirit had trans- migrated into a working bee, and that Mon- eram, his creditor, was a drone in the same hive. All the summer long he regarded him with indifference and treated him with friendly deference, but when the autumn came, and Moneram and other drones at- tempted to encroach on the winter stores of honey, a wild, uncontrollable impulse of fury took possession of him, and he fell upon the Moneram drone and stung him. When he looked round he saw that the other working bees had acted similarly by the other drones, and now nothing re- mained but to throw their dead bodies out of the hive. Then consciousness ceased for a while, and when Ghopal’s attention was next directed to himself he found he was no longer a bee, but a young fawn trotting along by the side of his dam. 205 Time passed on and he got a pair of branching horns, and ceased to remember that he had ever been other than a stag: but one day, as he roamed the woods in company with half a dozen females, he sud- denly halted appalled, face to face with a tiger, in which he recognized his old cred- itor, Moneram. For a moment he stood riveted to the spot, paralyzed, while he began to cast up mentally how much the fifty rupees came to at compound interest, and whether there was enough meat on his haunches to settle the account. The next instant he turned and dashed through the forest, fear lending speed to his feet. In vain—the pursuing tiger was close behind, and now suddenly a precipice yawned in front. Ghopal paused not to think, but plunged despairingly over, and kept on falling for an interminable length of time, conscious, too, that the tiger was falling through the air after him. Mile after mile they fell through space, until Ghopal gave up expecting to reach bottom, but after a time he found he was standing on firm ground, but concealed in grass that reached high above his head. Ghopal listened, for he knew the tiger could not be very far off. All was deathly still; not a movement, not a reed stirred. The tiger was crouching probably—it may be on this side, it may be on that—perhaps preparing for the fatal spring. The sweat rose in beads to Gho- pal’s forehead; his knees knocked together, his heart almost stopped its pulsations, when the silence was broken by a most un- earthly roar, at which Ghopal fairly awoke with terror to find that the roar proceeded from a camel that some Beloochee travelers were loading in the dim twilight that her- alded the approaching dawn. It was a great relief to Ghopal to find that it was only a dream, although he thought that very likely it was a revelation of what might happen in the course of his transmigrations. On the whole, he was disposed to take great comfort out of the 206 Byram and Ghopal. fact that there were some stages of exist- ence in which the workers got the better of the drones. He could sleep no more, and very soon Byram opened his eyes. The shadows van- ished. Travelers were setting out on their journeys. Our travelers devoted them- selves to their morning meal, the birds were fed, the fragments and uncooked food given to the poor, only Byram wrapped a lump of raw sugar in paper and folded it in his cummer bund; and after a few pulls at the hookah the sun rose above the hori- zon, and Byram getting into the accus- tomed saddle, the round of the Bazaar was soon made, and about a rupee and a quarter—62 cents—added to Byram’s store. The first two miles of the journey was well shaded with mango groves, but beyond that, as far as the eye could reach, the plain was devoted wholly to agriculture, and tree- less, excepting for the few solitary acacias which stood sentinel, each of its especial well. A draught of water was indulged in at one of the last gardens, but without dis- mounting, and now Ghopal set his best foot foremost, and trudged along with his wonted burthen. The way was long and weary, the road heavy with dust, and as the sun rose high in heaven, Ghopal from time to time passed his hand across his brow and pressed off the sweat that oozed out in beads, which chased one another down his cheeks. By ten o’clock our travelers had com- passed a good half of their journey to Mora, the next town of importance on the main road, and selecting a well, nicely shaded by a well-grown acacia tree, they came to a halt. There was a charpoy under the acacia, on which Ghopal deposited his burthen, and then lying down beside it he was soon asleep. * * * * When he awoke Byram was resting on his elbow, in- tently watching the movements of some ants. Ghopal sat up, and iollowing the direction of his gaze, saw a number of ants making for the acacia tree beneath which he was lying. What,” inquired he of Byram, “is the particular world’s work on which these little people are engaged this morning?” “JT do not understand their language,” said Byram, “but one of them—this fel- low over here—has been up the tree, and apparently made a discovery, for immedi- ately on descending he set off in search of help, and every one that he meets goes to the tree, and mounts it as confidently as if he had received full and reliable informa- tion, as of course he has. Hundreds have already ascended the tree, numbers are con- stantly arriving, and still the discoverer is spreading the news of his discovery in all directions.” “Do you think the discoverer can tell his brethren what he has seen?’’ asked Ghopal; “they cannot talk.” “ They certainly cannot converse together as men do,” said Byram, “but just as cer- tainly they have ample means of communi- cating all their ideas to each other. They appear to talk by means of their antenna, but whatever the means, nothing can be more certain than that they understand each other, and that this regiment of ants ascending this tree is doing so in conse- ——— Byram and Chopal. quence of communication from the ant I pointed out to you, and what is more, they all know what they are going for. While I have been watching I have observed that all that have been communicated with, ex- cept one little party of about a dozen or so, have obeyed the summons, so that the dis- covery is evidently something out of the common.” “Tt will not take much labor,” said Gho- pal, “to see what it is. The ants, I cansee from here, are all stopping at that fork up there, and they must have found a hole in the tree, for they all disappear.” “Be careful you do not tread on any of them,” said Byram, as Ghopal began to ascend the tree. Ghopal made no answer, but very soon he was at the fork indicated, trying to penetrate its mysteries with eye and nose. Then he broke off a small dry branch, and after some poking, succeeded in raising the dead body of a small squir- rel, which he laid hold of with his finger and thumb and pulled out of the hole, but quickly dropped to the ground, for it was covered with ants. Some of the little people got bruised or had their limbs injured by the fall, and these hobbled off to make room for active workers, and very soon the carcass was covered with as many ants as could find room to seize a mouthful in their little jaws. “There,” said Byram, “you see the crea- tures next to man in the scale of intelli- gence.” “Vou do not surely mean to say,” asked Ghopal, “that you would rank the ants above the dog or the elephant ?” “T do not think there are any points of comparison,” said Byram. “If we under- stood the ants’ language, or methods of communication, we should not only find them capable of understanding our social organization, but ready to condemn it as inferior to their own in many respects; but however freely we might be able to com- 207 municate with dogs or elephants, we should find such subjects beyond their comprehen- sion. Some of the ants keep slaves, some of them keep nectar insects, which they take the nectar from daily, just as men keep cows for milking. nities of ants engage in war with each other. Then, again, they are a provident people, laying up store of food for the winter, and in fact act so much like men that they must necessarily think as men do on such subjects.” “Have they any money-lenders among them?” asked Ghopal. “No,” said Byram; “ fortunately they are free from the human failing of avarice. There is nothing like lust of gold among them, but they experience lust of power just as men do. That is what prompts them to make war on other communities. The conquerors become a privileged class, and make the conquered perform the heavi- est work. In fact, they have tried so many experiments in social life that it would be very interesting to discuss such subjects with them and get the views of enlightened ants on the social problems of the age. In some respects they are certainly superior to men. They cannot control fire, nor turn it to any useful account, as even savage nations can; but in the matter of govern- ment and social organization they are on a par with civilized nations.” “But what do they do for men?” asked Ghopal; “anything like the white ants and the worms?” “Every creature that lives,” said Byram, “contributes all its life, with its droppings and finally with its body, to the enrichment of the soil. The ants perform an impor- tant share of the general duty, for no crea- ture can crawl anywhere to die but the ants will soon find it. This labor of scavenging, shared in by the ants, the jackals and the vultures, is a most important one for man. If it were neglected, the air would be poisoned by putrid exhalations from decay- Sometimes two commu- 208 ing bodies; but by eating and converting it into plant food, they prevent waste as well as keep the air pure.” The sun was now long past the meridian. Charley's Wonderful Journey. Leaving the ants to dissect the squirrel and dispose of the fragments, Ghopal shoul- dered his now familiar burthen and set out for Mora. CHARLEY’S We <¢ Se appear to be a stranger to these parts,” said the Kangaroo, as he suddenly halted before Charley, “why, I declare I never saw anybody like you be- fore “T know you very well, sir,’’ said Charley, raising his hat politely, ““you’re the Kan- garoo.” “Well, I suppose we are all Kangaroos, except the opossums and the birds. Every- body that jumps on two legs must be a Kangaroo, But sakes alive, I never saw anybody like you dehind! What on earth have you done with your tail? How can you jump without it?” “We don’t use tails for jumping with,” said Charley. “Then what do you use them for?” asked the Kangaroo. “Why, for making soup principally,” said Charley. “ Making soup with your tail!”’ exclaimed the Kangaroo, “why, I never heard of such a thing. “Oh, you put the tail into a pot with some water and boil it, and then you put How do you make it?” some salt in it and some onions, and when it is boiled long enough it is ready to eat.” “And did you make soup of your tail and WONDERFUL JOURNEY. eat it?’’ asked the Kangaroo somewhat in- credulously. “T? Oh_no, I never had any tail,” said Charley, “boys and girls do not have tails.” “Then how could you make tail soup, if you never had any tail?” asked the Kan- garoo. “Oh, we use ox tails at home,” said Char- ley, “but I have read that kangaroo tails make the very best soup.” “Well, we’re never too old to learn,” said the Kangaroo, “but what puzzles me most is how you manage to jump without your tail. Come along and let me see how you do it.” The Kangaroo led the way, but Charley was alongside of him in an instant, and jumped a neck and neck race with him. The Kangaroo put up steam and increased his jumps from ten feet to fifteen; Charley revelled in the new mode of progression and was not to be beaten. A river barred the way, and the Kangaroo in the excite- ment of the race went for a broad place, and landed so close to the edge of the bank that the earth crumbled beneath him; but Charley landed well up the bank, and seiz- ing the Kangaroo’s arm as he did so, saved him from falling back into the river. The next moment they emerged from the timber into an open plain, and there before them was a whole colony of Kangaroos playing leapfrog, a long line of them stretching away as far as the eye could reach, “ Keep still,” shouted Charley’s compan- ion, as the nearest Kangaroo, having been vaulted over by all in succession, was about Charley's Wonderful Journey. 209 to start on his vaulting tour, “keep still, though many of the Kangaroos grazed him we're coming.” with their tails as they passed, none of And away he went, vaulting over each them had managed to give him a fair whack, until it came to the very last, which followed his predecessor so closely that before Charley knew he was coming, he got a whack between the shoulders that stretched him on the grass with all the wind knocked out of him. When he got up again Kangaroo in succession, occasionally giving one of them a vigorous rap with his tail as he swept by him. Charley followed him jump for jump until he reached the end of the line, when he too gave a back and Charley vaulted over him. Charley was now at the head of the row, and had to give back to all in succession, and having the Kangaroos were quite a long distance watched his leader, and the way he flapped off, and Charley seeing a grove of small his tail, and the dexterity with which the trees with what looked like very large fruit standing Kangaroos avoided the passing hanging from the branches, strolled toward stroke, he too was on his guard, and al- it and found that what looked like large 210 fruit were loaves of bread, so he picked a long loaf, tasted it, and finding it very sweet, sat down to refresh himself after his un- usual “Tf I only had a good bowl of milk,” exclaimed he. “Tf you want milk,” said the ’Possum, “there’s a cocoanut grove just beyond, and my young ones will soon throw you a few nuts down. Here you, Joeys, scramble off and fetch some cocoanuts for the stranger.” The cocoanuts were soon brought; the "Possums dexterously inserted their finger nails in the eyes, and opened a passage for the milk. Charley widened them with his knife, and emptied three or four of them with gusto, washing down his bread fruit at the same time. “What can that mean?” said the Possum, as he pointed to an open glade about a quarter of a mile distant, the view of which was shut out by a screen of low trees. “There are little pillars of smoke all over the plain.” Charley and the ’Possums crept quietly up to the screen of trees, and concealing themselves got a full view of all that was going on in front of them, and a strange sight it was. In a space of perhapsan acre in extent, the Kangaroos had lighted fifty or sixty small fires of dry branches, and on every fire was an earthen pot supported on three stones. ‘The pots of course were full of water, and in front of each fire was a Kangaroo with his tail simmering in the exertions. y Sy ino) Ae Charley's Wonderful Journey. water, and all changing from leg to leg in a manner that showed they were very un- comfortable. “What ever can they be doing ?”’ said the ’Possum. “I never saw anything like it.” “T know,” said Charley. “ They're mak- ing kangaroo-tail soup, and I’d bet any- thing they haven't put any salt in.” By this time the water was so hot that the Kangaroos could stand it no longer. First one took his tail out, and then the others in quick succession. As soon as the cold air struck them the Kangaroos danced around like mad. Then they took their tails in their hands and examined them, and, when they saw the hair and skin come off, their faces became so expressive that Char- ley thought he had better leave. “There he is!”’ shouted one of the Kan- garoos before Charley had got fifty yards. “There he is!’’ shouted all in chorus. Charley started to run, but they gained rapidly on him, and were close behind him when he reached the river. He cleared it in grand style, and at once settled down into jumping instead of running. He now began to gain on the Kangaroos, although as he looked over his shoulder he found that the old man whose acquaintance he first made was only a few jumps behind him. Presently a dense hedge of low trees barred his path; it was useless to turn aside; he put on a tremendous spurt, cleared the hedge at a bound, but as he alighted on the other side a prickly sensation ran up his leg, which felt as if it were asleep. He stood still and breathless. The next min- ute the old man Kangaroo bounded clear over the hedge and alighted a couple of yards in front of him. There was not a moment to lose, the other Kangaroos were close behind, and with a determined effort of the will, Char- ley straightened his leg, cleared the Kan- garoo at a bound, trying to kick him as he passed. Economic Ornithology. But the Kangaroo, seeing no one in front of him, turned sharply around, took in the situation in an instant, and with a dexterity born of constant practice in leapfrog, adroitly avoided the well-meant kick. The instant Charley touched the ground the Kangaroo was over him, and lashing out viciously as he swept through the air ‘brought his tail down on Charley’s cheek with a force that made him reel and fall backward. As he looked up he saw a dozen Kangaroos in mid-air clearing the hedge. “He is down!” they exclaimed in chorus. The old man turned on him with a face white with rage. Charley struggled 211 to rise—in vain. A moan escaped him, and in that moment of terror he heard his name uttered in the tender and pathetic accents of his mother’s voice, threw out his arms toward her, and the next instant awoke trembling in her fond embrace. “Oh mother,” said he, “how fortunate you came just at that minute; if you had been only a quarter of a minute later, I should have been torn to pieces.” “T tell you what it is,” said his father later in the day when he heard of it, “if that boy has any more dreams like that, you'll have to give him a smart dose of physic.” ECONOMIC ORNITHOLOGY. HE special Division of the Agricul- tural Department at Washington, under Dr. C. Hart Merriam, has issued its preliminary report on economic ornithology, giving the general result of its investiga- tions to date. The protection of hawks and owls is urged in the strongest terms, on the plea already familiar to readers of the AuDU- BON, that although these birds feast occa- sionally on chicken, they swds7st on mice, beetles, grasshoppers, etc., benefiting the farmer to such an extent that their occa- sional depredations in the poultry yard are insignificant in comparison. The English sparrow comes in for the most unqualified condemnation, but it oc- curs to us that the investigation does not appear to have been conducted in the same scientifically impartial spirit that resulted in the acquittal of the hawks and owls. The Department has called for facts and opinions as to the merits and demerits of this impudent little settler, and is in posses- sion of a mass of replies, amounting, it is said, to four hundred printed pages, all condemnatory, but when it is remembered that only twelve months ago it would have been easy to collect as general and violent a condemnation of hawks and owls, the condemnation of the sparrow appears pre- mature. On the same grounds we are dis- posed to take exception to the sweeping conclusion that all birds subsisting on grain are inimical to man, those only being bene- ficial which prey on mice and insects. These conclusions suggest the view that if we could only get rid of the mice and insects, we could well afford to spare the birds, but Charles Darwin’s investigations into the life labors of the earthworm points to widely different conclusions, and open up a new field for investigation. The conclusion that hawks and owls were the farmer’s worst enemies was reached by drawing general conclusions from isolated facts, while a fuller knowledge of the life habits of these birds has presented them in quite another aspect; and as granivor- ous birds can prey on the crops only at certain restricted periods, we must ascer- tain the economic importance of their habits at other seasons before it will be safe to reach conclusions. The whole subject is one of the greatest interest, but want of space compels us to postpone further reference to it in this issue. THE, AUD UBON, ..-<.s Se