P GIFT OF ^JHarcia BradvTucker Smithsonian Institution Libraries NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH With Fk'-P.jge Photogravures and many Illustrations in the tf,Xi jr’.rri Original Photographs from Nature by Harry B. JVheelock CHICAGO A. C. McCLURG ^ CO. 1902 - FRONTISPIECE# ' .. A Bahy Long-Ulled Marsh Wf^ns and Nest 'Ri ■■■■ #V- . . ■>' ' ’, „<> : 1 ^ ..V L w.r /K, NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH By Cy IRENE GROSVENOR WHEELOCK JVith T'wel've Full -Page Photogra-vures and many Illustrations in the text from Original Photographs from Nature by Harry B. Wheelock CHICAGO A. C. McCLURG ^5’ CO. 1902 Copyright, A. C. McClurg and 1902. Published March, 1902. TO MY OWN NESTLINGS SARA AND LOYAL O it is something To be taken out of the fuss and strife Of the singular mess we agree to call life: To be set down on one' s own two feet So nigh to the great warm heart of God You almost seem to feel it beat Down from the sunshine and up from the sod ; To be compelled, as it were, to notice All the beautiful changes and chances Through which the landscape fits and glances ; And to see how the face of common day Is written all over with tender histories. James Russell Lowell FOREWORD HILE not a scientific treatise, in the sense » ^ of being technical, this book claims to be as accurate as careful observation in the field, with and without a glass, can make it. It has been written from my own notes gleaned during several years of study of the nesting habits of our familiar birds, and some not quite so well known. In the case of the red-winged blackbird the double nest was made by another pair of birds in a different marsh, and was shown to me. It contained one egg in the lower part, exactly as described. With this one exception, I have chosen to relate only those incidents which have come under my per- sonal observation, knowing well that nothing is recorded which any one with the same amount of patience, leisure, and love of the subject might not have seen for himself. The individuality of these “ Little Brothers of the Air ” has not, in any case, been exaggerated ; for birds of the same species differ in habits and song as much as do individuals of the human kind, and to know them is an endless study. So far as reading human characteristics into animal life is concerned, can any one tell where 9 4 FOREWORD the brute ends and the human begins ? Many of the emotions of man’s heart find their counter- part in the life of birds. That we do not perceive this proves only how dull is our sight. “To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.” We hear and interpret according to the keenness of our own ears. Irene Grosvenor Wheelock. Chicago, January, 1902. 10 CONTENTS PAGE A Pioneer 17 A May Moving . 29 El Capitan 42 A Minstrel of the Marshes 52 A Martinet in Feathers 62 Jim’s Babies 77 Phcebes and their Cousins 90 The House Beautiful 99 A Foster Baby iii Marsh Cradles 121 A Marsh Mystery . . ! 134 Sandpipers, Quail, and Kildeer 144 The Bird of Many Names 158 The House that Fell . . . 170 Dr. Jekyll 180 Carpenters, Masons, and Miners 191 Monsieur Mischief 207 A Brown Thrasher 224 CcEUR DE Lion 238 A Wood Thrush 243 Yellow Warbler . 250 ILLUSTRATIONS Page Tliree-weeks-old blackbirds Title-page Young catbirds Headpiece Baby long-billed marsh wrens and nest . . . Frontispiece Prairie horned lark’s nest at foot of a corn-stalk (Plate I.) . 17 Meadow lark’s nest and eggs, with sheltering grasses removed 21 Bluebird’s nest in hollow tree 30 Bluebird’s nest in cavity of a fence-post .... 33 Baby bluebirds, twelve days old 35 “ Are you satisfied with this pose, Mr. Photographer?” 37 “We are so hungry ” 40 Red-winged blackbirds about two weeks old (Plate II.) 42 Red-wing’s nest in rushes 45 Young red-wing blackbirds in nest 48 13 ILLUSTRATIONS Page Yellow-headed blackbirds two weeks old in nest (Plate III.) 52 Home of yellow-headed blackbird 53 Young clinging to edge of nest 56 Baby robins, eighteen days old 64 Robin, six weeks old 68 Taking a sun-bath 72 Crow’s nest in crotch of a tree (Plate IV.) .... 77 Olive-green eggs, spotted with black 79 Phoebe’s nest and young ......... 91 Baby pewee fast asleep ......... 93 Dainty nest of the w'ood pewee 97 The beautiful and the grotesque loi Fluffy baby orioles 105 Contentment 108 Baby chickadee emerging from nest (Plate V.) . . m Location of chickadee’s nest 114 “ Two is company ” 125 A handful of babies 130 Sora rail’s nest and eggs 136 A baby rail 138 Immature sora rail 141 Nest of spotted sandpiper exposed (Plate VI.) . . 144 Sandpiper’s nest, skilfully concealed ..... 146 Sandpiper’s babies, hiding on the sand 148 A spry little “teeter” 150 Baby quail in the hand . . . 152 4 ILLUSTRATIONS Page Kiideer and young one day old 154 Kildeer startled, and about to run 156 Young flickers leaving t^e nest (Plate VII.) . . . 158 Squirming flicker babies, two days old 162 Young red-headed woodpecker leaving nest . . . 171 On the lookout .... 174 Dr. Jekyll 172 Nest and eggs of the jay 184 One of the jay’s victims : nest of swamp sparrow . 186 Nests devastated by jays 188 Chimney swift’s nest and eggs (Plate VIII.) . . . 19 1 “ We want our mama ” 195 Nest of barn swallow 201 Nest and eggs of catbird in a bush (Plate IX.) . . 207 Catbirds three weeks old : The same, two weeks later 209 A tilt between a bluebird and a catbird, each four weeks old ..215 The same birds as in preceding cut, showing progress in feathering and relative growth . . . . . 220 Nest and eggs of thrasher in thorn-bush (Plate X.) . 224 Nest of thrasher on the ground 225 Thorn-bush, the thrasher’s favorite nesting-place . . 227 Baby thrashers, ten days old 232 Hair-bird’s nest, in same thorn-bush 235 Young hair-birds and undeveloped egg 236 A tyrant fledgling 241 A nest of mud and grasses 244 15 ILLUSTRATIONS Page Young wood thrushes and cowbird 24.6 Nesting-place yellow warbler in low shrub (Plate XL) 250 Wee yellow warbler nestlings . ' 255 Young catbird 257 6 r NESTLINGS OF FOREST and MARSH ? A PIONEER Ere a leal is on a bwsh, In the tiine before the thrush Has a thought about Its nest, Thou wilt come with a call, Spreading oii aTA J^lsy breast Like a careless prodigal ; kVviU-ttAiyiO Vi'iVtaoVV When we ’ve little warmth, or none. Wordsworth. pHROUGFiOUT the tract lying along A the lake shore north of Chicago, the real herala of Spring is the meadow lark. The blviebiid lingers among the sugar maples south and west of us; the robin shims the ci/ ill lake v, iiids as long as pos- sible; but in spite otAvi?ad and weather, the meadow lark seeks h's old familiar haunts in his appointed time. Not only is he the first to come, but the first to sing. Even ^\t:\ i-f ?' '•* i/i i ^ - ^ PLATE I ' >- ■ ■ ’'Vf '/ <;' Si^. ; wj#' Prairie Horned Lark' S Nest at foot of a corn-stalk ,., t ■ .-v" 7i% ■ '■ ■■ -■ ’■' . " ;. ■ 0'’ NESTLINGS OF FOREST and MARSH A PIONEER Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the thrush Has a thought about its nest, Thou wilt come with half a call, Spreading out thy glossy breast Like a careless prodigal 5 Telling tales about the sun, When we ’ve little warmth, or none. Wordsworth. Throughout the tract lying along the lake shore north of Chicago, the real herald of Spring is the meadow lark. The bluebird lingers among the sugar maples south and west of us ; the robin shuns the chill lake winds as long as pos- sible ; but in spite of wind and weather, the meadow lark seeks his old familiar haunts in his appointed time. Not only is he the first to come, but the first to sing. Even 17 2 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH amid snow and ice I have heard his clear piping whistle on the sheltered lowland meadows about the Skokie marshes. It is neither so jubilant nor so oft-repeated as when, under the sunny April skies, he pours out the rapture of his love song ; but, like the first Spring blossom, it is the promise of joy to come. In this latitude February sunshine is a snare and a delusion. A whiff of Spring to-day is buried under two feet of snow to- morrow.” Hunger drives the sturdy winter residents of the forest to seek food among the homes of men. Many perish from starvation. Brave indeed must he be who voluntarily leaves a land of plenty for such precarious surroundings. And brave he was. Though often cold and hungry, with the courage of faith he never failed to sing ‘‘ Spring dl be here ! ” on every bright day. What the little hero found to eat was a mystery, until he was one day discovered robbing a field-mouse’s store of grain. On another occasion, seeing him busy on top of A PIONEER an old stump, I ungraciously interrupted his breakfast, and found that it consisted of ants that were devouring the remains of a squir- rel’s hoard of nuts. Undoubtedly he was also finishing the feast. At another time he was flushed suspiciously near a number of empty snaiEshells that bore evidence of having been recently broken into. Now, I have no proof that he was responsible for the destruction of the snails, as I believe it may have been the work of downy wood- peckers, but the meadow lark was feeding at the same spot on something, and snails were the only food in sight. Usually he slept cuddled under the long marsh grass close to a hummock ; but more than once I have startled him from the friendly shelter of a brush pile, and once from the low crotch of a tree. For a long time he was the sole one of his kind in that meadow, and seemed to covet the society of a pair of horned larks who were always to be found there. Day after day he fed with them on the wet roadway, and the 19 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH companionship seemed to be mutually agree- able, for they followed where he flew until their early family cares absorbed them. Two broods of young horned larks were raised in this meadow in March and May, respectively. The third nest was made in a cornfield in July. It was merely a slightly hollowed-out place at the base of a corn hill. In early March, two more male meadow larks appeared, and a few days later a soberly gowned female came alone. She was at once the object of much attention. The way to a man’s heart may be, as cynics aver, through his stomach ; but among feathered folk this rule is reversed, and many a ladylove is won by edible dainties. With the mercury at zero fat worms are scarce, and Madam coquettishly encouraged the efforts of her three suitors. There seemed to be no quarrelling for her favor, but each one laid his hunting trophies at her feet or called her to share an especially rich find. After several weeks of living thus on the fat of the land, she made a choice, not 20 A PIONEER on account of brighter plumage or sweeter song, — no, it was merely, as 1 believe, a question of greater hustling after bugs. About this time the other suitors seemed to disappear from that meadow, and all the Spring it was occupied by this one pair. About the middle of May a rude nest of grasses, partly arched over, was made in a small ression in the ground. When we discovered it there were five eggs, white thickly speckled with brown, lying in two parallel rows, three on one side and two on the other. In order to photograph the nest we were obliged to disturb the overarch- ing grasses a little, and this disclosed it all too plainly to its enemy, the crow. Meadow lark’s nest and eggs, with sheltering grasses removed 21 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH When we next visited it, every egg was gone. The parents seemed to connect us in some way with the catastrophe, and were much ^more wary in concealing the second nest, which they made in a near-by meadow. So jealously did the long grass guard their secret that we could find no trace of it until the young birds were hatched and partly feathered. In fact, it was only the great anxiety of the parents that betrayed them. We lay down flat on our faces in the long grass on top of the hill, and with field glasses and patience at length located the nest. The mother bird flew from it to a tree fifty feet away, looked about nervously, and then darted swiftly to a boggy place for slugs. Soon she was back in *the tree with her mouth full of food for the nestlings, and, after another hurried look around for danger, went directly to the nest. In a few moments she repeated this manoeuvre, and, as long as we watched her, made the trip every ten minutes. It may be she suspected danger. 22 A PIONEER for not once did she come or go without first resting in the tree for a look-out. Meanwhile the mate had not ceased to utter a peculiar note of warning and distress. His part was to guard, not to feed, and from a fence post on the opposite side he kept faithful watch. Sometimes, pressed by hunger, he went down into the deep grass to feed, but his little head was ever stretched up on the look-out for danger, and rest- lessly he called, Pe ent, pe ent.” The mother alone seemed to take food to the nest, and from her movements seen through a field glass I judged much of this consisted of grasshoppers. She carried some of it from the bog, but a great deal was caught in the clover near the nest. We could see her stop and stretch up suspiciously to look about, and could watch her snap the bug, then start on a run under cover to the young. She seemed to kill the larger insects by tossing them up and catching them several times in her beak. Having satisfied ourselves as to where the 23 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH nest lay, the next thing was to find it, in the centre of a ten-acre meadow. By keep- ing a certain bunch of tall clovers on a line with a certain tree, we came to the place where the mother had so often disappeared. A long search revealed the nest carefully hidden in the grass and nearly arched over. Five half-fledged birdlings lay with their heads toward the outside, cuddled down compactly in a space apparently large enough for but one. Like the martins, the nestlings were sur- prisingly large and were covered with brownish gray down. Their beaks were pinkish gray, and the inside of the mouths a deep rose red rather than yellow. Every little mouth was opened wide for food, but their eyes were covered with the usual mem- brane, and did not open until two days later. We judged them to be five days old. As the days went by, the alarm call of the father increased in shrillness and was re- peated more rapidly. At first sight of us in the distance, he was on guard, and not 24 A PIONEER a movement escaped him. Never did he regard us with the least confidence, and our approach was the signal for a display of many amusing little wiles all intended to deceive us. Not once resorting to the stratagem of a broken wing, so common among wild birds, he attempted to convince us that the nest was in another part of the meadow. With elaborate absence of con- cealment, he carried butterflies fluttering like whirligigs and dragon-flies without number to a spot a hundred yards from the true nest. This was repeated day after day, and each time, finding it useless, he perched on the same fence post and called more piteously than ever. So long as we were visible, the young meadow larks cuddled together in unwinking silence, but if, hidden from them by the arched roof of their snug nursery, we were absolutely still for a time and then swished the grass lightly, every little mouth opened wide for food, with plaintive chirps. They remained in the nest until about twelve days old. One 25 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH morning, it was the 30th of May, after a soaking rain when we expected to find them half drowned, they were gone. We knew from the distress of the parents that they could not be far away, but listen as we would, not a sound came up from the clover. So discreet were they, and so protective was their coloring, that we were unable to find even one of them. For many days they remained hidden in the clover field, and then we saw them flying to the fence and back, and finally they ventured as far as the wood. They were exact copies of the adult birds except in length of tail, which seemed out of propor- tion to their size, and they displayed the two white tail-feathers spreading in flight, like the parents. After a week’s freedom they grew quite independent of parental support, and foraged for themselves far and wide. Although we were not able to catch them, we did hear their first attempt at song, and, funny enough, it was much like a small 26 A PIONEER boy's first attempt to whistle. Two notes^ a little catch, two more, and sometimes only a quaver was the usual result. But they were very proud of it and kept at it early and late. I suppose it could hardly be called a song, and yet it was so evidently an attempt to give voice to their emotions of joy that it made sweet music in my ears. The father did not sing much after the nestlings were hatched. He whistled occa- sionally very early in the morning or very late in the afternoon, but after the bobolinks came the music of the meadow larks was hushed. He still chose the same fence post, but his call was one of warning and anxiety rather than 4elight. Even after his family cares were over, and the babies all flown, he could not refrain from worrying. Evidently he was unable to realize that they were nestlings no longer. The family seemed to keep together, for they were usually to be found in the same part of the field, and yet I seldom saw two of them side by side on a fence or a tree. 27 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH One night, just after sunset, the dog flushed them from the meadow grass — which led me to infer that they slept close together not far from the old nest. Without a sound save a startled whirr ” they scattered in various directions, some reaching the low shrubs, and some alighting again in the grass. In this instance the parental instinct was shown by the adult birds taking con- spicuous positions widely apart to distract attention from the young. 28 A MAY MOVING O bluebird, up in the maple-tree Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee 5 Did you dip your wings in the azure dye When April began to paint the sky ? Or were you hatched from a blue-bell bright ’Neath the warm gold breast of a sunbeam light ? Emily Dickinson. WALKING one day through an orchard with an inquisitive friend, her eager, investigating fingers pried off a strip of bark and disclosed five exquisite blue eggs on a bed of feathers in the hollow limb of an apple-tree. The door of this dainty home was a foot higher up the branch, — a small round hole made by a downy woodpecker. The little bluebird mother, distressed at the undesired exposure of her domestic arrange- ments, after much talking it over with her spouse, decided to abandon the eggs and make a new home elsewhere. At first a clump of willows in a swampy place was 29 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH considered, and had this been chosen our his- tory might never have been written. Both birds seemed to examine every available place there, and so pleased were they with one deserted wood- pecker’s home, I began to fear they had decided upon it. “ She who hesitates is lost,” and while Madam was still looking at empty houses this one was preempted by nut- hatches. When next she approached it in blind confi- dence with mouth full of grass, a storm of nasal “ Non, non,” “ Non, non,” greeted her. Nuthatch French was convincing, and beyond a feeble protest she made no attempt to dispute their estab- lished claim. A site was finally chosen, after much anxious consultation and fre- 30 A MAY MOVING quent internal inspection^ to see whether it would fit and had a good subcellar and plenty of closet room, and with many pro- longed pauses in the doorway to consider the view. It was in a tall stump in a grove of elms on the shores of a beautiful lake, and was more commodious than the first nesting-place, being the last year's excava- tion of a red“headed woodpecker. Also, the more pretentious doorway was several feet higher up and well out of the reach of prying fingers. Another thing commendable in the eyes of the home-seekers was the absence of any bark on the outside that inquisitive hands could break off. The other door faced east, while this faced west and allowed a fine view of the sunsets over the lake. Well satisfied with their choice, the patient, uncomplaining pair brought grass, feathers, and hair to furnish their new dwelling. In a few days — five, I think — the little blue mother retired to private life for a season, and the devoted mate, when not singing his sweetest from an adjacent 31 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH perch, brought her daintiest morsels of food and relieved her from duty at least once every day, going out of sight inside as she did. In two weeks from the time she began to sit there was great hurrying to and from the old stump. The babies had arrived and were hungry. Both parents were kept busy from that time on. We could hear the little soft twitterings inside the stump, gentle coaxing for food, musical protests against being crowded, and the welcome of the mother’s return. At last, after ten days’ patient waiting, judging the nestlings to be full-feathered, the Man with the Camera cut open the side of the nest, and taking three of the babies out, gently placed them on a white cloth in the sun and photographed them. Mean- while the fourth had asserted his right to freedom by flying away, and three babies at once being all we could well manage, we made no effort to capture him. Those were troublous times at the old tree nest. The sunny-tempered parents 32 A MAY MOVING were much disturbed at this violation of their privacy, and hovered about us with all the interest and anxiety manifested by human parents over “ photographing the baby.” Only on this occasion, there being four, and Bluebird’s nest in cavity of a fence-post right lively ones at that, the process was even more tedious, and tried the patience of the photographer quite as much. At last it was over, and two of the young were returned to the nest, and the damage was repaired by nailing the loose piece in again. The other two were held captive for 3 33 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH two days for further experiments in photog- raphy. Following the advice of Mr. Dug- more, we provided them with a nest as like their own as possible in a rubber sponge bag hung on a door-knob. Their food was yolk of hard-boiled eggs and cracker crumbs mashed together, varied by a cut-up earth- worm every other meal. They were fed every hour, and had a drink of water with each meal, the last meal at night being at six o’clock, and the first in the morning at five. Even then, only ten days old, they showed different characteristics. One was gentle, easily pacified, and trustful ; the other was fierce, always hungry, and resent- ful of captivity. From the brighter blue on the plumage we judged the gentler one to be the male. If so, how reconcile his meekness with his sex ? His wings were the color of the sky, the rest of his body being mottled gray, black, and white. A line of down over each eye marked his babyhood, as in all small birds ; otherwise he was fully feathered. The fe- 34 A MAY MOVING male, for so we will call the more soberly gowned fledgling, was soft dappled gray with scarcely a hint of blue in her coloring. Energy, courage, and a temper were surely hers, whatever her sex. She never liked to receive her food from our hands, would fight whenever a finger was presented to her, and greeted us always with the peculiar hiss of birds born in Baby bluebirds twelve days old hollowtrees. She looked on with indignation when we fed her small brother, and though apparently very hungry herself, never extended her bill for any morsel offered on the finger-tips or held over her between fingers. If given on the end of a wooden toothpick, it was eagerly swal- lowed. The blue wings of the male nestling quivered in eagerness, hers trembled with anger ; and these two emotions were as dis- tinct and easily recognized as in the behavior to a human baby. 35 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH In photographing, also, we had much more trouble with her than with either of the others. She would not sit for a picture. She would turn her back to the camera, or would fly away just as it was ready for the snap. She awakened first in the morning, and called loudest for food. At last, being about to leave the vicinity, and not caring to take the nestlings with us, we tried the ex- periment of again opening the hole and replacing the two in the nest. Scarcely was the small piece that had been removed put back in place when the mother bird flew down and looked in at the door. “ Dear, dear ! ” she seemed to say, here are the lost babies, half starved ! Hurry, hurry, to feed them ! ” and away she went after bugs and beetles. The father at once took her place, looked in also, uttered a bluebird exclamation of astonishment, and swiftly flew away for food in his turn. For half an hour one or the other parent was at the nest- hole constantly with nourishment for the returned nestlings. The lost were found, 36 A MAY MOVING and the fatted calf was killed amid fervent rejoicings. It seemed to me that the._blue“ bird's song that night had a happier note — “ Truallvj trually/' ‘‘ thankfully, thankfully." Two days after, the babies flew one at a time from the old tree nest. There was no Are you satisfied with this pose, Mr. Photographer? ” twig or bough near to receive them, for the tree trunk was stripped bare of bark and branches. Their flight must be from the door of their snug home out into the wide green world of forest. The nearest perch was twenty feet away. No wonder they stood a long time on the doorstep summon- 37 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH ing courage to venture out. Twenty feet is a long distance for baby wings. There are wonderful and terrible things in the green forest to baby eyes. By and by one took heart of faith, or a gentle push from behind forced him out, and away he fluttered. Bravo ! ” called the little blue father, flying around and under him. He almost reached the branch, tried for, but could not quite grasp it. Down, down he tumbled, half flying, half falling into the soft ferns, and sat breathless, frightened, but safe. His bravery was at once rewarded with a fine tid- bit brought by his fond mamma. In the mean time his brothers and sisters left in the nest had grown impatient, and now two little heads appeared one just behind the other in the small round doorway. There was a peck, some naughty words, and out popped two more almost at the same instant. Leav- ing home so abruptly, they had no oppor- tunity to plan their travels, and tumbling, fluttering, down they came together near an old tomato-can. Breathless, but triumphant 38 A MAY MOVING and delighted, they viewed it with curiosity. Cautiously the bolder pecked it. It gave out a tinkling, hollow sound. Lovely ! He tried it over and over again, much as a small boy pounds a drum. His proud father came with worms, but for once he was too much occupied to eat. It was too exposed a place for a baby bluebird, and the wise little parents, knowing this, used every wile to coax him into a position of safety. Finally, fearing the cat would get him, I drew near to pick him up. Away like a flash he flew, the other little one following, and landed in a wild gooseberry bush ten feet away. There yet remained one in the nest, the fifth having disappeared on the day of the first photographing. This was evidently a home body, for many visits and much coax- ing from both father and mother failed to persuade her even to look out. At length, in curiosity and doubt as to what had be- come of her, I pounded on the tree very hard, and out to the edge she came. But an hour of coaxing was necessary to induce her 39 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH to try her wings. In the end the mother starved her to it by refusing to feed her in the nest. She would fly almost to the timid one’s side with a tempting worm in her bill, “ We are so hungry ” and making a little coaxing noise, alight on the tree twenty feet away. At last hunger prevailed over fear, and the fledgling made a brave effort to reach her supper. Strange to say, she was the only one who succeeded in alighting on the tree. She was really bet- 40 A MAY MOVING ter prepared for the journey than any of the others, but was of such a conservative na- ture, she preferred to endure present ills rather than fly to those she knew not of. With many tempting bits of food, many soft words of praise, the three in the bushes were finally induced to strive to reach by easy stages a safe perch near the one. This done, both parents cuddled contentedly be- side them, and peace reigned in the old tree. 41 EL CAPITAN ’T is always morning somewhere, And above the awakening continents from shore to shore Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. Longfellow. Early in March, soon after the arrival of the three meadow larks, a flock of jolly rollicking red-winged blackbirds took possession of the woods along the marshy field. Careless of wind and weather, they piped their gay ‘‘ Konkaree ” on bright and gray days, insisting, in spite of the snow, that Spring is here.” Evidently the calendar; not the weather man, makes the blackbirds’ Springtime. When the icy winds blew and the sleet covered all the trees, I wondered where they were, and whether cold and hunger would drive them southward again. But with the first sunshine out they came as merry as ever. I do not know how it may be ordinarily, but this flock evidently 42 -i- M’-" ,. , ' /> P'LATE H Red-usiid'ged Blackbird^; aboiit>'tw(i weeks' old .a-jaw®-. EL CAPITAN ’T is always morning somewhere, And above the awakening continents from shore to shore Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. Longfellow, Early in March, soon after the arrival of the three meadow larks, a flock of II aTAjq ’ jolly rollicking red-winged blackbirds took possession or the woods along tne marshy field. Careless of wind and weather, they piped their gay Konkaree ” on bright and gray days, insisting, in spite of the snow, that ‘‘ Spring is here.” Evidently the calendar; not the weather man, makes the blackbirds’ Springtime. When the icy winds blew and the sleet covered all the trees, I wondered where they were, and whether cold and hunger would drive them southward again. But with the first sunshine out they came as merry as ever. I do not know how it may be ordinarily, but this flock evidently , 42 ,1 EL CAPITAN tucked themselves away in the lee of a straw- stack, for there they were on the very first hint of bright weather. There also were juncos and song sparrows — a companion- ship not usually sought by the red-wings. Among this crowd was one who seemed to hold aloof or to be ostracized by the rest. Every evening, just at sunset, he took up his favorite position all alone on the tip- top bough of a tall oak-tree, and sang un- til the last purple ray had faded from the sky. Each morning from the same high perch he sent a greeting to the day. Know- ing how gregarious blackbirds are, I won- dered why he was so seldom with the rest. At length I was forced to believe that it was not from choice, for every time he ap- proached them he was received with a chilly silence and great tail-wagging. And how much cdntempt a blackbird can express with his tail ! The reason was found in what seemed to me his especial distinction ; for, by a strange freak, his shoulders were pure white instead 43 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH of crimson. At once I decided to keep track of him, if possible, and see him woo and win his mate. This proved to be an easy task, for he was no rover. When the more accomplished musicians, such as the catbird, thrasher, and thrush, arrived from the south, the black- birds retired to the marsh near the hotel, and with them went “ El Capitan,” as we had christened the white epaulets, and there we soon found him. His wooing was conducted with the same gay nonchalance that characterized all his ac- tions. With wings quivering and tail spread, he paraded before his little brown sweet- heart. She sat swinging on the wild rice, apparently entertained but not enamoured. He hovered gracefully over her, sat on a rush in front of her, and sang ‘‘ Konkaree” that sounded startlingly like Marry me ! ” But she would not. Was it because the white shoulders were not to her taste ? or did she fear the ridicule of the rest if she chose a mate with such outre coloring? While 44 EL CAPITAN El she was still hesitating, a rival suitor ap- peared. After a moment’s pause to look over the points ” of the new-comer, Capitan ” decided that ^^thegamewas not worth the candle,” and, with a philosophy creditable to his sex, contemptuously flew away. He would not fight for any lady’s favor; no, not he. With a flaunt of his tail he was off on another wooing just as ardent as before, and smiling to myself I say, Howlike are birds and men ! ” Once hav- ing gained a mate, it was most interesting to watch his nest building. Strip after strip of wet marsh grass and moss was taken from the stagnant water and woven around strong rushes. There seemed to be less turning about and more fluttering than 45 Red-win-g’s nest in rushes NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH is usual in shaping it. Every piece was wet when placed in position. At last, before I was aware of it, the little home was com- pleted, and one greenish-white egg scrawled with black lay therein. But now a strange spell came o’er the spirit of his dream. For no reason that I could discover or imagine, he deliberately built a second nest on top of the first, covering up the egg and completing the second structure exactly as if there were no family skeleton in the dungeon beneath. Was it a whim of Madam’s to have a house larger and more elaborate than her neighbors ? Fortunately for my observation he had chosen the edge of the marsh, either to have better air and sunlight, or for greater protec- tion from the marsh rats. Being in a posi- tion exposed to the full force of wind and wave, even the first nest had been made deeper than usual and woven closely around strong dry cat-tail stalks. Evidently the second-story apartment 46 EL CAPITAN pleased the little house mother, for a new egg was added to its contents daily until there were five, and on May 1 5th sitting began. Food and water were near by, and yet the mother left the nest for long intervals while “El Capitan” stood guard. He made no pretence of taking her place, but watched with renewed vigilance and scolded a little harder as our boat came by, evidently regard- ing us with suspicion. Did he recognize us as those rude creatures who had set up a horrid black box on shining legs so near his home a day or so before, and thus kept his wife away from those precious eggs long enough to chill them ? On May 27th the first two nestlings were out, and one hatched each day thereafter. We knew this before we looked, because of the curious antics of “ El Capitan.” For two days previous to this important event, I had seen him peeping into the nest with great concern ; but, as he carried no food, I knew it was anticipation, not realization. When they did come, he nearly burst his throat in NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH angry chucks on our approach, his protests vigorously seconded by the mother. But we were curious and therefore merci- less ; besides, was it not in the so-called inter- est of science ? We pushed cautiously up and looked in, — only two babies yet. They were pretty little things, though so naked, for body, beak, and legs were just the color of a ripe apricot. In a few days dark lines of embryonic pin- feathers showed down each side of the spine and the edge of the v/ing ; then a soft brown down covered the throat, breast, and top of the head. By and by brown feathers pushed out through the quills, and evidences of a tail became more patent. The eyes opened and the skin grew darker, changing to greenish gray 48 EL CAPITAN on the forehead, which remained entirely bare even after they were fully fledged. When twelve days old they began to stand up, after the manner of young birds, and to tease for food on any approach to the nest, often with most coaxing chirps. The food carried to the nest was nearly all picked up from the water and the decaying vegetation among the rushes. The mother frequently walked out on the lily-pads, and filled her beak with the little black beetles always to be found there. As the babies grew older, dragon-flies and butterflies were fed them, the latter apparently having the wings torn ofl* by the mother before being given to the young. I have no proof of this except what the field-glasses afforded, and I am not en- tirely sure of its accuracy. The birds were not especially shy, but they were difficult to watch on account of the constant motion of the rushes in front of the nest. These I did not wish to cut down for fear of exposing the little home to cruel eyes. There is a spirit of reckless daring inher- 4 49 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH ent in every young blackbird, and the off- spring of El Capitan ” were no exception. One of these bald-headed babies balancing himself gingerly on the edge of the swaying nest, was a funny sight on a calm day, but funnier still when the wind blew. How tightly his tiny claws grasped the stout grasses as he bobbed this way and that, in a desperate struggle to keep right side up ! How enviously the four in the nest watched his gyrations ! Occasionally a second and a third would climb out beside him, and then something was sure to happen. Too often it was a tumble for all three back into the cradle, but never a cry or a quarrelsome note that 1 could discern. All the little red-wings but two had flown before I reached the nest one morning — so early I fear no one will credit my note-book, which says 3:50 a. m., but morning conies quickly in the marshes where there are no trees to hide the sun. The nestlings were near by, hanging on to the rushes for dear life and begging for food with quivering 50 EL CAPITAN wings. The two left in the nest were cuddled down, with no thought of flying, and I fancied they might not leave for an- other day. BtU: “ El Capitan ” was a wise father, and by afternoon had taken his five little folks from the dangers of the water’s edge to an orchard not far away. Here they lived day after day, a curious anomaly in blackbird life, picking up bugs from the ground and roosting at night in the trees. It is a statement which may occasion surprise that those small blackbirds tried to sing before July was over. To be sure, it was a weak quavering little song, but evidently a direct attempt to imitate the father’s Kon- karee.” “El Capitan” showed a ludicrous pride in this performance, and the very last glimpse I had of him he was sitting on a fence wire listening to the efforts of an am- bitious youngster who was balancing upon a weed stalk below. 51 A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES On a bulrush stalk a blackbird swung All in the sun and the sunshine weather, Teetered and scolded there as he hung O’er the maze of the swamp-woof’s tangled tether j A black bass leaped for a dragon-fly And struck the spray from the sleeping water, While airily, eerily, there on high Sang the blackbird pert from his teeter-totter. Anonymous. MONO the glories of a certain Wis- 1. consin marsh are hundreds of these beautiful birds. To me their music has a peculiar banjo-like quality unlike that of any other bird. Heard in the silence of acres of wild rice, there is something very weird and attractive in the sound. It is richer, fuller, and clearer than the song of the red- wings. The yellow-head of the photograph was a magnificent fellow of glossy black plumage, except for the rich gold on his head, throat, and chest, and his lemon epaulets. Not all 'a? 'p: ■^4km If SiilPI SMiSM <> Sft::S "'! f"i- >- ■ ^ PLAtE III / THhw-headed Blackbirds two weeks old in Nest ' • A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES On a bulrush stalk a blackbird swung All in the sun and the sunshine weather, Teetered and scolded there as he hung O’er the maze of the swamp-woof’s tangled tether 5 A black bass leaped for a dragon-fly And struck the spray from the sleeping water, While airily, eerily, there on high Sang the blackbird pert from his teeter-totter. Ill aTAJ^ANONYMOUS. Aiv/f MONG the glories or a certain Wis- consin marsh are hundreds of these beautiful birds. To me their music has a peculiar banjo-like quality unlike that of any other bird. Heard in the silence of acres of wild rice, there is something very weird and attractive in the sound. It is richer, fuller, and clearer than the song of the red- wings. The yellow-head of the photograph was a , magnificent fellow of glossy black plumage, except for the rich gold on his head, throat, and chest, and his lemon epaulets. Not all 52 4 A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES the yellow-heads have the color in their wings, and this with his marked individuality singled him out from the crowd. He sat swaying and swinging on the rushes, not a Home of yellow-headed blackbird whit disconcerted by our approach, watching the boat glide nearer and nearer, watching also the camera as it was focussed and snapped, never ceasing his song or changing his attitude. 53 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH We knew that somewhere within the forest of rushes was his nest, and all our interest centred in finding it. Pushing our boat as far in as possible, the oars were laid down on the mucky, quaking bog, and cau- tiously we crept to the snugly hidden home. It was a strongly woven, deep structure, very like that of the red-wing. The four pretty eggs were grayish white covered with pale brown speckles. The thinness of the middle of the shell warned us that they were ready to hatch. On our second visit, six days later, four nearly naked birdlings, cov- ered with a mere haze of grayish down and embryonic pin-feathers, filled the nest. Al- though we waited patiently, not one ray of sunshine came the whole day long to make a photograph possible, and regretfully we postponed that pleasure another week. By this time it really seemed as if the male bird recognized us. He was much annoyed but fearless, and only protested mildly when we landed among the cat-tails and waded out to his nest. The water was so deep and the bog 54 A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES so uncertain at that spot as to make picture- taking extremely difficult ; and the Man with the Camera, being also a man with patience, made many attempts before he was finally successful. The little ones were very active handsome babies, fully feathered in soft shades of brown, and looked much like the young brown thrashers. The bills, how- ever, were black, and the inside of the throat a soft rose pink, quite unlike the brilliant salmon of the red-winged blackbird nest- lings ; nor were their heads bare, as we expected. They were nearly ready to fly, and insisted on raising themselves up onto the edge of the nest and tumbling about in baby helplessness. In so doing one of them caught his cla^s in the skin of the head of his brother, and then ensued the first crying we had heard from these model children. The father meanwhile was circling over our heads, exhibiting curiosity rather than dis- tress. He would alight every now and then near the mother, and sing a word or two of reassuring comfort to her. She was more 55 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH timid and much more distressed, fearing to come near us herself and perfectly certain that she would never see those nestlings again. After taking their pictures, during which they behaved admirably, we went into con- cealment to watch. At once the father was there with food, and the mother, being reassured that the boat so near did not mean a trap, soon joined him in Young dinging to edge of nest CaHng for them. To reach the haunts of the yellow-heads from our camp, required a row of three miles, a punt of one mile through marsh, a row of another three miles and punt of a quarter of a mile. Nevertheless, so deter- mined were we to watch their nesting habits 56 A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES and see these youngsters develop, that we went again and again, taking our lunch with us and lying in the marshes in a duck-boat all day. Many have described the beauties of marshland, but can any one register its heat ? When the thermometer placidly climbs the nineties on the shady hotel veranda, out in the rushes a smothering, sickening mugginess steams up from the sluggish water and beats down from the blistering sky. However, it seems to affect the spirits of the blackbirds not one whit. Bitterns, rails, and tern hid under coverts, but the blackbird piped his Konkaree ” as cheerfully as ever.^ Satanic in his coloring, the red-wing is veritably an imp on a hot July day. He seems to mock at your dis- comfort and to exult in the swarms of midges and marshflies the heat coaxes up from the water. Not so the yellow-head. At all times less active than the red-wing, he seeks a cat- tail on the edge of the channel where every puff of air will come his way, and sings in 57 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH rich content with the world, himself, and the weather. That the little ones in the nest are nearly ready to fly is his chiefest concern, for he is an ever-watchful parent. Four out of every five broods of red-heads that I have watched have been destroyed by snakes, owls, hawks, or marsh rats, but either because of greater vigilance in guard- ing, or because of some difference in location not apparent to a layman, the yellow-heads seem to be much more fortunate. All of the broods under our notice reached matu- rity and successfully took flight. The one especially described in this chap- ter was very slow in developing. For several days after the birdlings seemed to be ready to leave the nest, they clung to it, loath to try their fortunes elsewhere. There was much stretching and climbing out onto the edge, but each time, just as I was waiting in breathless expectation of a startling debut, the little brown wings would quiver rapidly, and with a look at me, much as to say, You see I can fly if I really want to,” down he 58 A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES would cuddle into the nest again. During this waiting time the pride and interest of the handsome father were amusing. Except when necessary to obtain food^ he never left his place on the tall rushes by the side of the nest. No movement of those young- sters escaped him. Often after an unusually vigorous wing-flapping by one of them, he would go a little nearer and utter two or three interrogative and rather musical chucks, as if to encourage the youngster to try again. Although we had resolved to camp right by this nest, with a camera, and see every stage of flying, the first eflLrt took place during a temporary absence, and the others so early in the morning that an instanta- neous,’' which was the only thing possible, was a failure. The young stayed about the vicinity of the nest for several days, but were seldom to be found on the tops of rushes. They seemed to slide down between them, and crouch on the floating vegetation. I now saw the reason for the glint of blue in their wings, for so perfectly does their color- 59 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH ing harmonize with the brown of the water, and dead plant life, and the reflection of the sky, that it is very difficult to watch them. They were betrayed only by their efforts to ' learn the peculiar banjo-like song of their father. A faithful, untiring teacher he proved to be, patiently giving each note with great care and distinctness, as if he realized the responsibility of educating such wonderful musicians as those children were to be. When interrupted by the grunt of the bittern, or the squeal of the wigeon ducks, or the curious whinny of the ‘^skiddies,” he would flirt his tail in impatient derision, wait for a silence, and begin over again. Soon he was rewarded by what seemed to me curiously like a spasm of nausea accompanied by a queer clinking sound on the part of one of the little ones. This was repeated over and over, and always with the curious humping motion before the note was uttered, as if it must be forced up from the region of his tail. I have seen cow-buntings do much the same thing in their efforts to sing. 6o A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES The adult yellow-heads are graceful, easy vocalists so far as any physical effort is con- cerned, and I am curious to know whether all the young find song as difficult as did this brood. The ordinary food of these interesting babies was waterbeetles, slugs, and dragon- flies, but the many empty snail-shells, some bored in from the top, led us to suspect that these were dainties not to be despised in the blackbird menu. They are even accused of being cannibals and robbing the nests of their weaker neighbors of other species. Having no proof of this, and remembering the gentleness, beauty, and good-breeding of this particular family, I indignantly deny this slander upon them. A MARTINET IN FEATHERS They ’ll come again to the apple-tree — Robin and all the rest — When the orchard branches are fair to see, And the prettiest thing in the world will be The building of the nest. Margaret E. Sangster. HIS Spring, only a few feet from my A window, a pair of robins built their nest of mud and grass on the horizontal limb of a large oak. There were no interven- ing branches, and except for a few leaves I had an uninterrupted view of robin house- keeping. From the first the male was a tyrant. Several times when the mother had carefully shaped the foundations of the nest to suit her taste, he would contemptuously poke it away, and remodel according to his own ideas. Toward the last, however, he seemed to realize the necessity of finishing, or he grew tired of teasing, for they worked together more amiably, and constructed a A MARTINET IN FEATHERS model nest satisfactory to both. In it were laid four blue eggs, and the 2d of June sitting began. The little mother was ex- tremely nervous, and watched my window with frightened eyes. Fearing she would desert, I kept the curtains drawn, and only indulged in cautious pei^king. For fourteen days she brooded, relieved at long intervals by her mate. At these times, when he was left in charge, he made no pretence of covering the eggs, but stood astride them, a ludi- crous picture of masculine helplessness in the care of babies. If she lingered away too long, he called her, — ^at first coaxingly, then imperatively, then angrily ; and often have I seen him fly out and drive her back to her proper sphere in the home. At such times he lectured her severely on her neglect of duty, and flew away without his customary soft twittering. Whether because she feared me or because she liked liberty, she was loath to come back to the drudgery of nest- keeping, and he knew it. He was a strict 63 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH disciplinarian, and his rule of conduct evi- dently was, I will be master of what is mine own.” On the fifteenth day there was a change. Baby robins eighteen days old Three small featherless birdlings were seen lying in a mixed-up mass in the little nest. Only by their great gaping yellow mouths could we tell how many there were, but those were ever open. The parents surveyed them with such ostentatious pride, I decided it was their first brood. For a long time both male and female brought food, and seemed to know instinctively which one had been fed last. They were model offspring 64 A MARTINET IN FEATHERS and rarely cried, but I could notice little contented wrigglings and cuddlings when the soft low twittering of the parents on their way home was heard. Some of the leaves hung over the nest on the side next the window, and prevented a full view, so a small boy climbed up and removed them. This caused great con- sternation in the robin family, and it was more than an hour before the mother came to the nest again. When she did, it was only to sit on an adjacent branch and “chuck” angrily at me, all the time hold- ing a large yellow grub and a full-sized angle-worm in her beak. That she did not enjoy the wriggling of the latter was evident from the frequency with which she tried to get a better hold by rubbing him against the bark. Having tried in vain to bait a fish- hook myself, I fully sympathized with her. The loud-voiced protests against my pres- ence at the window called all the bird neigh- bors to the tree. First to respond was an oriole, who came quite near, cocked his head 5 65 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH on one side, and looked at the nest full of naked babies with amusing curiosity. Then, with a contemptuous flirt of his tail, as much as to say, Humph, you need n’t make such a fuss. Nobody could want such queer, homely things as those are ! Now, if they were young orioles, ” etc., he flew away. This was too much for the robin, and furi- ous with anger, she darted after him, pur- suing him from tree to tree. Meanwhile a phoebe, a red-eyed vireo, a song sparrow, and a bluebird were examining the nursery from a safe distance and expressing their views. They were sympathetic and re- garded me with suspicion ; but an unmis- takable spirit of criticism on the choice of location, size of nest, and method of building was evident in their remarks. The blue- bird gently wondered why a nest should be built in such an exposed position when there were plenty of nice dark holes in the trees which were much safer and better for bird- lings’ eyes than such strong sunlight. The climax came when a red-winged blackbird 66 A MARTINET IN FEATHERS passing by was especially scornful, and his advice to build near the ground among the cat-tails, where any inquisitive watcher would drown in the mud,” was so unbearably con- ceited that both parents drove him away. Job’s comforters were they all ! All but one saucy English sparrow, who had been hopping excitedly between me and the nest, talking as fast as only a sparrow can. Fi- nally, when the robin became sufficiently calm to listen, this was what that small brown bird said : It ’s all nonsense, your being so frightened. My nest is much nearer to that monster than yours, and I am quite calm. Don’t you know that’s a woman, and she can’t climb a tree ? You are quite safe.” This seemed in some strange manner to re- assure the timid mother, and in a few mo- ments she stayed at the nest long enough to pop a dragon-fly down the throat of the hungriest or the most persistent of her babies. On the sixth day the eyes were opened and feathers beginning to show. Soon the breast 67 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH took on the beautiful mottled appearance of the thrushes. Far handsomer were they than either father or mother when they began to stand up in the nest and look out into the great world. They watched their parent fly away, at first with round- eyed astonishment, then with curiosity, plainly declaring, I wonder how she does it.” Finally, longing to follow was clearly expressed, Robin six weeks old ^ and a resolve to try shown by climbing out onto the edge. They were still under parental control, how- ever, and, like naughty children, the moment 68 A MARTINET IN FEATHERS mother was seen returning, down they would squat, as if the idea of flying had never oc- curred to them. Twilight was a time of much restless poking and squirming on the part of these nestlings. Apparently they were as hard to put to sleep as human babies. As another writer says of young humming-birds, “ They resented being sat on,” and the mother was finally forced to be content with a seat on the edge of the nest. When they were fourteen days old, there came a hard rain and wind which tore down trees and washed out culverts. Anxiously I watched the brave little mother battle with the storm. At first she sat facing the win- dow, not daring to turn her back to me. Alas ! in all those fourteen days she had not learned to trust me. The wind, catching her wings and tail, threatened to lift her bodily from the nest, and in a momentary lull she managed to turn herself so as to face it, not once rising to expose the little ones. There she clung for nearly two hours, 69 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH while the fierce storm beat pitilessly in her face, and it seemed as though cradle, babies, and all must go down. As it increased in fury, she spread her feathers, sitting even more closely, and forming a perfect shelter over the edge of the nest as well as over the young birds, and I believe not one drop reached them. 'After it was over and only a light rain falling, she flew off to an adjacent branch and shook herself as if from a bath, not one whit the worse for her drenching, and in ten minutes appeared at the nest with three angle-worms in her beak. Having read Mr. Treadwell’s estimate that each young robin eats sixty-eight earth- worms daily, — which would be a propor- tion of seventy pounds of meat and six gallons of water per day for an average man, — I fell to counting the worms brought to this nest. The result seemed to justify Mr. Treadwell. In three hours after this rain, sixty-one earthworms, sixteen yellow grubs, and thirty-eight insects of various sorts, from grasshoppers to dragon-flies and moths, 70 A MARTINET IN FEATHERS had been devoured by those three innocent- looking young robinSj and the feeding pro- cess was still going on when I left the win- dow, During the last few days of their stay in the nest, either the father or the mother was cramming food down the spotted golden throats of the nestlings every three minutes. There was strong individuality shown even then.' One youngster, evidently a male, was much more restless, energetic, and self-assertive than the other two. I was not surprised to see him rise on the edge of the nest one day, watch his mother’s flight, and decide that he could follow her. This he did, to the surprise and consterna- tion of his small sisters left meekly at home. He went just as far as his untried wings could carry him, and landed in a crotch of the main trunk, six feet below the nest. Just then the father returned with food, and so astonished was he at the exploit of his son that he uttered a loud cry, even with his mouth full of caterpillars, and for one whole minute forgot to feed the venture- 71 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH proud of, — ^ girls being a minor considera- tion anyway, — -and he devoted all his efforts to the adventurer. some youth. After that, however, he evi- dently decided that this was a son to be Taking a sun-bath 72 A MARTINET IN FEATHERS The next day the other two were still in the nest and seemed content to remain there, but the fond father and the eldest son were nowhere to be found. The Man with the Camera, having decided that conditions were favorable for a family portrait, climbed the tree amid the angry protests of a whole neighborhood of birds, and carried the two remaining babies down to be photographed. That ordeal over, he replaced them in the nest, expecting, of course, to see them fly away. But no, — - they cuddled down, per- fectly content to be safe, warm, and cared for. The glorious freedom of the air had no attractions for them ; what they most desired was a cosey place to lie in the sun and watch the big white clouds float by, sure that at their first hungry chirp mother would bring them food. The anxious little mother seemed to feel something was wrong with these two, and talked to them more volubly after the largest one had flown. Once I fancied the father came back to look at them, but could not be sure, as he only 73 NESTLINGS OF POOREST AND MARSH alighted near a moment and did not feed them. It was five days after the flight of the first when these two were seen outside the nest, on a branch and nearer the window. Then the mother hovered frantically near them, afraid lest they fly too far and yet anxious to get them away from danger. She grew very cross and scolded constantly, savagely driving away every bird that came near the tree, apparently not knowing that by so doing she was telling the world what treasures were hidden there. I pitied her, left with the responsibility of those two lazy nestlings. There they sat, stupid, obstinate, refusing to budge. In vain she coaxed, in vain she offered tempting bits just out of reach. They nestled up to each other, shut their eyes, and slept. I believe I might have captured them with little trouble ; and evidently the mother thought so too, for her distress was pitiful and compelled me to leave the window. Where the father was during this troub- 74 A MARTINET IN FEATHERS lous time at the home, I never knew. Once during that week I came upon a male robin feeding a solitary birdling at least a mile away from the tree I had been watching. It seemed improbable that they should have wandered so far away, and yet the coinci- dence of one baby with the father, is not frequent in the robin family, where all keep together so long. On the fifth day after the flight of the eldest son one of the two stay-at-homes actually ventured out of the nest as far as the nearest twig. This boldness so astonished the last nestling that, actuated by some occult impulse, he too resolved to try. As he balanced hesi- tatingly on the edge, the mother darted suddenly toward him, thereby precipitating a “ fly or fall ” crisis. Both nestlings flew — blindly — and landed in the shelter of a hawthorn-bush. There they sat all day, and about five p. m. fluttered to the lowest branch of a sapling for the night. The mother slept there with them that first night, and by morning they had all 75 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH gone farther afield, where I did not follow them. But there was still an unhatched egg in the nest, and the small boy again climbed after it. To our surprise we found this egg contained a young bird nearly ready to hatch, and apparently it had been alive when the mother left the nest the day be- fore. This irregularity is by no means rare among woodpeckers, but I had not found it before in the robin family. 76 JIM’S BABIES You slay them all ! .And wherefore ? For the gain Of a scant handful more or less of wheat, Or rye, or barley, or soneC other grain, Scratched up at random by industrious feet. Searching for worm or weevil after rain ! Longfellow. R. ERNEST SETON-THOMP- _ T 1. 3TAag every wild creature this seems to be particuKirly true of crows. They are the Ishmaels of the feathered kingdom, with every man’s hand against them. The law vv hich protects other birds offers a bounty for their heads. The farmers hate them ; the small boy considers them legitimate prey, and pockets the price on their heads with the satisfaction of well-doing. I confess to a grudge against them myself for the many nests of song-birds they have robbed within my own precln.cts. It is disappointing to watch a brood day by day until the young 77 JIM’S BABIES You slay them all ! And wherefore ? For the gain Of a scant handful more or less of wheat, Or rye, or barley, or some other grain. Scratched up at random by industrious feet. Searching for worm or weevil after rain ! Longfellow. Mr. ERNEST SETON-THOMP- SON says every wild creature comes to a tragic end,” and this seems to be particularly true of crows. They are the Ishmaels of the feathered kingdom, with every man’s hand against them. The law which protects other birds offers a bounty for their heads. The farmers hate them ; the small boy considers them legitimate prey, and pockets the price on their heads with the satisfaction of well-doing. I confess to a grudge against them myself for the many nests of song-birds they have robbed within my own precincts. It is disappointing to watch a brood day by day until the young 77 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH are hatched, and you have conceived a real love for the helpless little things, and then come back after an hour’s absence to find that a crow has stopped there for breakfast, and not one is left. And yet, why blame the crows for what we, with our full knowl- edge of good and evil, do for mere personal adornment or gratification of palate ^ The story I am going to tell of a farmer’s hate and a father bird’s love is true in every respect, and is, alas ! only one of many such instances. Early in April a pair of crows selected the top of a sturdy oak in the wood about our temporary home for their nest, and be- gan to build. Day after day they carried twigs from the brush pile, dead leaves from the wood, and bunches of cow-hair from the pasture, to the crotch, and placed each bit with nicest care. Let no one slur a crow’s nest, for every twig has its own place, and you cannot remove one without disturbing the entire structure. This particular nest, according to the description of the Man 78 JIM^S BABIES with the Camera, who had climbed to inspect it, was the perfection of good workmanship, and was lined with a thick mat of cow-hair padded down to a hemisphere. We had sup- posed it to be much flatter and less deep than the examination revealed. In it were laid five pointed olive- green eggs, spot- ted with black. They were ar- ranged in a circle with points to- ward the centre. The mother bird was extremely shy, and left the nest before the intruding climber had reached the first crotch, and all efforts to obtain a good photograph of her failed. She was never away long, and on returning in- 79 Olive-green eggs spotted with black NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH variably followed the same route with the same precautions. Circling over and past the tree-top several times, she would alight on a tree fifteen feet to the west, and look in every direction ; then flying to one about the same distance to the east, she looked again. In order to remain hidden I was obliged to swing myself around the trunk of a tree as she moved in search of me. Having assured herself that all was well, she flew to the topmost limb of the nest- tree, and hopped down the branches to the one containing the nest ; then, walking with a comical deliberation along it, she slipped onto the eggs so deftly that, watch as I might, I never saw her do it. Once there, she seemed to sit motionless until the next resting-time, and only her yellow-rimmed eye could be seen winking as she peered over the edge at us. Her mate came often, bringing her frogs, fish, and even duck eggs. The first she swallowed whole, the fish she seemed to tear, and the egg was placed in the nest, where she ate it from 8o JIM’S BABIES the shell as daintily as Queen Victoria is said to have done. The male al- ways carried these in his beak, and I am sure the fish were, as a rule, several days dead. I watched him many hours at his fishing, and never but once saw him catch a live fish. Usually he preferred those cast up on the shore by the water. Frogs and snakes he caught in the marshy meadow, and I have seen him kill a snake that measured twenty-three inches long. But for our shouting, which compelled him to leave it, he would probably have carried this to his mate on the nest. A fish, which we forced him to drop from mid- air, fell into an open meadow, and, con- cealing ourselves at a distance, we watched him come back for it. This he did almost immediately, but being frightened a second time, gave up the search, and with many indignant caws flew back to the lake for another. Early in our acquaintance with ‘^Jim” a peculiar conflict took place, at sunrise one 6 8i NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH morning, which resulted in a loss of his chief beauty — his tail. He was usually to be seen on a tall tree one hundred feet from the nest, where he could watch all that oc- curred and be near if danger threatened. It happened that blue jays had selected this tree for their home, and they wisely objected to sharing it with him. They had fought him day after day, and driven him away temporarily, only to find him there on their return from each absence. At length matters reached a crisis, and a mob of jays attacked him, resolved to settle the question of pos- session once for all. For a time he held his ground gallantly. The method of warfare then became most amusing. A jay, perched above the crow, flew down, knocking his tail each time in insult, and at the same moment one below flew up, bumping against him as he rose, and screaming in derision. One jay would “ dare ” another openly to further insult, and at length the challenged alighted squarely on the crow’s back for an instant. Escaping punishment, they became reckless, JIM’S BABIES and while the poor crow, bewildered by the onslaught of the jays in front, flapped his wings and screamed, turning round and round to face them, these two jays flew between his wings and his body several times, nearly upsetting him. At length, either rendered desperate by his obstinacy or grown bolder with his seeming lack of courage, they seized his tail and hung on until each had pulled out a feather. This was too much for even a crow’s courage, and he left, ignominiously defeated by a passel of good-for-nothing jays.” Much as I sympathized with him, I could not but be glad of the accident which enabled me to distinguish him with certainty from other crows, and from that day my interest in him doubled. About this time the low chuckings were heard more frequently in the old crow’s nest. “ Jim ” redoubled his attentions to his mate, and seldom left her without a note or two of farewell in a tone wholly different from harsh crow caws.” He stood guard on a nearer tree now, and 83 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH when she left the nest she invariably called him to it with a peculiar inflection on the c-a-a-w.” To me it said, Come, come, dear ; ” and he came instantly. Whatever may be crow etiquette on such occasions, “ Jim ” was a model spouse, patient, faith- ful, and brave. Early one April morning, about two weeks after the first nest building, we no- ticed an unusual stir in the tree. Both parents were there on a limb near the nest ; and, from the excited tones and comical oglings, we concluded that the babies had arrived at last. So the Man with the Cam- era once more ascended to investigate. Great was the commotion his presence created. Calmly to focus a camera while two angry crows are aiming at your eyes with beak and claws requires more than Roman fortitude, and he was forced to content himself with a hurried glance into the nest and a still more hurried descent. There were five of the homeliest bits of bird-life imaginable, naked, blind, with a dull greenish hue to their skin, 84 JIM’S BABIES and yet the objects of absurd pride to Mr. and Mrs. “Jim.” Never were babies more admired or more coddled. One of the parents was at the nest constantly with dainties for the darlings. I am sorry to say these too often consisted of the young nest- lings of other birds. We knew this by the way “ Jim ” robbed nests. English spar- rows, song sparrows, and field larks were his victims. Eggs of all varieties, young frogs, minnows, refuse from the kitchen, were all carried to those nestlings. It takes a surprisingly long time for young crows to develop, and “ Jim’s ” babies were no exceptions to this rule. For fully four weeks they were kept in the nursery and were model infants. The last ten days I could see them stand on the edge of the nest, and, stretching each little wing with their claws, look about over the swaying tree-tops and straight at the sun with blue eyes that never blinked. About this time, with the help of a small boy, a photo was taken of the five in their nest ; but 85 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH the negative, like dozens of others, for some mysterious reason was a blank. Before we could get another they had flown. In spite of our close watching, and possibly because of it, this important first lesson in flying took place during our absence from the wood ; but we saw them soon after snuggled up together, every mouth open for food. This Mr. and Mrs. ‘^Jim” took turns in supplying until the young were several days out of the nest, and then their training be- gan. So far as I am able to judge of bird education, they were much more easily taught than young robins. While we did not see the very first flight, we did witness the preliminaries for several days beforehand. These lessons lacked the fuss and coaxing of the robins. The young crows hopped out on the nest limb and flapped their wings in exercise many times before the final day came. At such times ‘‘Jim,” on the topmost twig of the tree, watched them with pardonable pride. He also watched us, and talked in a crow under- JIM’S BABIES tone to those five black babies about the ene- mies lurking under the tree, Mrs. Jim was even more nervous, and kept up a per- petual cawing and jerking her tail whenever we were in sight. It was comical to see the young ones peer over the edge at us in imi- tation of their elders, withdrawing instantly at our first move. Every night found them in the oak-tree. When taken down to the lake’s edge as soon as they could fly to drink and bathe, they walked into the water with evident delight, and waded about in it, trying to pick up bright pebbles shining on the beach. The second day they did find some kind of food, though it was impossible through the field- glasses to tell just what. At some signal given by Jim ” they usually rose with one accord in circles until level with the tree- tops, sometimes striking a lower level and disappearing in, rather than over, the wood. Yet wherever they spent their waking hours, I am sure that for many days they came back to the nest-tree at night. 87 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH By this time their wings were strong, and one day the entire family, with several others, disappeared over the tree-tops and did not, according to tradition, come back to the old tree to roost. We missed them, and wondered why, but not until a week later was this mystery solved. When driving through a country road on the other side of the lake, the Man with the Camera ex- claimed, That looks like a crow hanging on the barbed wire fence yonder!” We tied the horse and tramped across lots to investi- gate, and may such a sight never meet my eyes again. On the ground within a radius of a few feet were the lifeless bodies of five young crows ; and there, beside his slaugh- tered little ones, hung Jim,” impaled by his throat and exhibited as a warning to all his tribe not to meddle with that farmer’s corn. Looking over the many acres of bright green spears that stretched field after field away to the woods, I wondered whether the amount taken by “Jim ” and his brood would have materially lessened that crop. 88 JIM’S BABIES Poor “Jim His efforts to get an honest living for his young were thwarted by the crowds of fishermen near his home, and so, in thievery of a few kernels of corn, he met his fate. What diabolical trap had been set for them, and where was Mrs. “Jim”? These questions were never answered. It was enough to know that “ Jim,” though doubtless a thief and cannibal, had per- ished in defence of his young like the cour- ageous father he had ever been, and we sadly added one more to our list of bird tragedies. 89 PHCEBES AND THEIR COUSINS The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o’errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings. And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; He sings to the wide world, but she to her nest, — In the nice ear of nature which song is the best ? Lowell. N ice-house is a curious place for a 1. X home even in summer weather, but this particular ice-house stood on the side of a bluff overhanging a pretty inland lake, and a site on the big hoisting-beam just under the eaves offered advantages of safety, coolness, and fine view not often found. Moreover, there were tall trees all about it, to give it a more rural air and insure plenty of bird neighbors. Here early one April morning a handsome little Phoebe brought his mate, and persuaded her in sweetest tones to go to housekeeping. She was 90 PHCEBES AND THEIR COUSINS some time in deciding. It seemed to be a little higher from the ground than she really Phoebe’s nest and young liked, for she kept flying down from it to the ledge of the door just beneath. But he insisted on his choice and she had promised to obey, so they began to build. So fearless and so friendly were they that conceal- 91 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH ment was unnecessary, and I watched them openly. At first they came with mud, then bits of fibre and fine moss, then more fibre. For six days they were busy weaving and shaping it to their taste. As she sat in it to mould it, her little tail was often flat up against the boards, a most uncomfortable position, but the home-making so absorbed her that she did not mind. When the house was finished, an artist might have marvelled at its beauty, — of soft green and silver, so round and smooth that it looked to be shaven, and yet every little spear of moss was perfect in shape. It has been suggested that Phoebes, humming-birds, and others who pad their nests thickly with moss and down, do so to render them non-conductors of electricity during a storm ; but this seems to me very improbable. Yet what better ex- planation have I? We all ask why ? ” but he who is to explain Nature’s mysteries is yet to come. It was enough for me to know that when the five tiny white eggs were laid in that pretty nest, the mother PHCEBES AND THEIR COUSINS brooded while the father watched and sang. He took up his position on the end of the ridge-pole of the roof directly over the nest, and while incu- bation was going on was rarely absent and rarely silent. At all hours of the day and far into the night I heard him, and my glass seldom failed to show him standing like a sentinel in the same place. He seemed never to sleep, and I know he spent every clear night on the ridge-pole. When the little ones were hatched, most of the feeding seemed to be done by the mother. True, the father would catch his meal in a short flight out from his perch and back again in true flycatcher fashion, and 93 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH dodge down with it to the babies ; but usually it was the mother who fluttered back and forth with tiny bugs for the brood. There were five pretty nestlings in that one small house, scarcely big enough for two. As they grew larger, the wee mother seemed to sit up on a platform of tiny heads. After a time she was crowded out onto the very rim. One bright morning I missed the little father from his post, and went to see what had become of him. He sat on the extreme end of the hoisting-beam, with two babies beside him ; and there the three remained all day until darkness covered them. The three babies yet in the nest were the objects of much solicitude to the anxious mother. She hardly dared leave them, either from fear that they would fly or anxiety lest they would not. At the foot of the bluff were countless myriads of insects, and there the swallows flew in circles, sometimes almost striking the ground in their swift downward curves. The mother did .not join them 94 PHCEBES AND THEIR COUSINS that day, but by short fluttering flights evi- dently managed to fill her beak and keep the nestlings fed. Whenever she left them the father called Phoebe, Phoebe,” with greater energy than ever. At length, with- out any warning apparent to my dull ears, one of the young birds decided to fly. He stood up, quivered his wings a brief moment, and plunged headlong out with blind flutter- ing. In some way the father was under him as soon as he started, and together they landed in the projecting branches of a tree half-way down the bluff. As soon as this youngster was safely settled, back flew the little father to the one left on the beam, fed him, and coaxed him to fly. He had already sat there twenty-four hours, and needed little coaxing to leave. The family was divided, the first two going with the father and the three in the nest being cared for entirely by the mother. In two days more they had flown also, and the pretty home was deserted. The wood pewee seems to me like the 95 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH descendant of a ‘^younger son ” of the Phoebe family. Their song bears a strong family resemblance, but is voiced in a plaintive minor key expressing some weight of woe which lies heavy on that tiny heart. He is not always sad, however, for when the wee olive sweetheart has consented to be his, the music fairly bubbles from his throat in ecstasy. The only brood I overwatched had dimin- ished to one before I found it, and that one was nearly ready to fly. We could see his pretty head over the edge of the dainty nest on the lowest branch of an oak-tree. The father was very proud of him, and exceedingly anxious when we borrowed him to photograph. Of course to him he was the brightest and handsomest of babies, but to me he seemed unusually stupid. In spite of all we could do, he insisted on going fast to sleep on the perch, looking as ragged and distressed as possible. The sun shone very bright and warm upon him, and possibly this was a pewee’s method of taking a sun- 96 PHCEBES AND THEIR COUSINS bath ; but instead of leaning sidewise, as most birds do, he nodded forward and seemed about to fall over. He could call his name almost as well as his father when he chose, and he usually did Dainty nest of the wood pewee choose. The interpretation evidently was Feed me ! Feed me ! ” and brought about the desired result. The mother had prob- ably met with a tragic end, for we never saw her at the nest, and the father took entire care of the little orphan. When we put him back after photographing him, he snuggled down as if relieved to be again at home, and made no attempt to leave it for four more days. On the fifth day he was gone, but 7 97 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH hidden in the neighborhood, for a mournful ‘‘ Feed me ! Feed me ! ” came from the tree as we drove under it in leaving. The nest, which was taken later, was badly smashed at the side, as if some larger bird, possibly a jay, had meddled with it, and the lining was entirely out of it, expos- ing the bare branches to view in the bottom. I wondered by what heroism that tiny father had defended and saved one nestling from the fate that had overtaken the mother and the others. 98 THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL Then from the honeysuckle gray The oriole with experienced quest Twitches the fibrous bark away, The cordage of his hammock nest, Cheering his labor with a note Rich as the orange of his throat. Lowell. From the outermost tip of an oak-tree branch on the sunny side of a hill, swung the pretty silken cradle of these orioles. The' unusually brilliant plumage of the father bird and his glorious song were the subject of much admiring comment long before he chose this nesting-site, and when he brought his little mate to that tree and inspected its facilities by hanging chickadee fashion from the tip of that very branch, I held my breath in ecstasy of hope. Now orioles do not like to build in an oak, for two reasons : it is the foraging ground of squirrels who gather the acorns ; and the branches, being less pliant, afford a better 99 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH foothold for despoilers of the pretty nest. Swung from the slender swaying twigs of an elm, it would be practically inaccessible to all foes. But elms are few in that locality, and the orioles decided that if the nest were made extra deep and very small at the top, it would be comparatively safe even in an oak. Next in order was to win his sweet- heart to his way of thinking. It was his first courting, I am sure, for never did such ardor pour from a bird’s throat. The course of true love never does run smooth, however, and his wooing was no exception. In spite of fine feathers and fine song, the lady of his choice was hard to please, and for more than two weeks he was untiring in his attentions before she finally consented to commence housekeeping. After many visits and much talking it over, he appeared one day with a long strip of honeysuckle bark, and in some way coaxed it to stay wound around the twig, one end hanging down straight. After that he came constantly with silvery bits of plant fibre, lOO THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL which his mate wove busily back and forth, until by magic the exquisite nest took shape. We saw him pull and tug at the dead weed- stalks, coming back to the same plant again The beautiful and the grotesque and again for more. Clover stems con- tribute their share of silk also. Although there were many feathers on the ground, he never touched them, and string was also scornfully rejected. One whole afternoon he spent gathering dandelion silk by jump- ing on the tall stems and walking along until his weight brought the heads to the NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH ground, where he seemed to thrash the seeds out and carry away the silk in triumph. Funniest of all was it to watch him tug at a long horse hair that had become fastened in the bark of a tree. Bracing himself on the side of the trunk, woodpecker fashion, scolding all the time, and finally swinging off and around in the arc of a circle in his efforts to loosen it, he would not give it up. Several times he withdrew, tired out, only to renew the attack as soon as he had “ caught his breath again.” No other hair would do, and there was general rejoicing when he at last flew away with it. This and countless other hairs, he used to stiffen the nest and hold it in shape. During this time the female carried com- paratively little material, but did all the weaving. The male seemed to help to pad it inside with the lining material, disappearing entirely within the nest, but Madam attended to all the outside ornamentation. Not a piece of string of any kind, not a bit of rag or paper was used in it. Only plant fibre THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL of the clearest silkiest texture, dandelion down, and red clover silk. This was the more remarkable because only a short dis™ tance away we found a nest made mostly of fishline woven in with a cotton necktie, and lined with colored calico ravellings. Also white hairs were used for the first, and any sort in the second. One nest was beautiful, the other ugly but curious. What instinct in the brains of those two little builders led them to choose so differently ? Why was one home artistic and the other a hotch- potch ? Was the one an attempt to imitate a hornet's nest for better protection, or was the builder really impelled by a sense of beauty ? Did the second builder think to make his home look like a bunch of rags acci- dentally caught in a tree, or was it on account of greater ease in obtaining the necktie and fishline, or were they more beautiful to his eyes on account of the color ? Who can tell what the thought of a bird may be ? For some reason, perhaps because of its shallowness and wide top, the brood in the 103 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH necktie nest were stolen by a blue jay one by one, while the other little ones were success- fully reared to adult oriole-hood, — not, however, without great vigilance on the part of the father. 1 had supposed him to be remarkably amiable, but now he was a veritable Thibetan guarding his sacred city. Harsh scolding notes mingled with his sweet music all day long, and any intrusion by man or bird was greeted with a volley of chucks so sharp and so rapidly exploded as to remind one of hre-crackers under a tin pan. When we judged there might be eggs, the Man with the Camera climbed the oak-tree, and by a skilful use of twine bent the branch so that he could look into it. Five white eggs marked with black lay there. Ten days later he looked again, and four little mouths were stretched up for food. A week later they appeared over the top of the nest, reaching up one at a time, and then quickly disappearing as the mother was heard scold- ing on her way home. 104 THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL About this time she seemed uneasy as night came on. The nest was evidently crowded and the babies very restless, for, after many trials to settle herself inside the little home, she came outside and rested on Fluffy baby orioles the end of the branch, her head over the nest. Occasionally a little head would reach up, only to receive a sharp reproving peck from her. She kept up an intermittent, half-fretful, half-soothing gurgling note, un- less the father was singing near, when she appeared to be quite content. This con- tinued for several days until, one fine morn- ing, a youngster actually succeeded in balancing himself outside the nest. 105 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH A young bird learning to perch is an odd sight. At first he seems to pitch forward most alarmingly, then, when he has righted himself, a gust of wind or an incautious movement carries the centre of gravity too far back, and he hangs over like a trick- performer on a horizontal bar. Sometimes he over-reaches and tumbles ignominiously to the friendly arms of the next branch, or even to the ground. No such fate befell the young oriole. His feathers were all in trim, and but for down on the sides of his head and the shortness of his tail he was the image of his mother. No sooner had he taken his position outside the parental roof than the world looked so big that he was frightened and began to call for help. Instantly both parents were beside him, feeding and comforting him. This he en- joyed so much that the moment they left he cried again, and so piteously that they were forced to return. After that, like a naughty child who has discovered that crying brings the desired result, that young oriole raised his io6 THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL voice and wings in constant demand for foodj until I felt sure that the tired father must long for night to come. The three other nestlings were slower in leaving home, but after a wait of two days they flew one each day until all were out. As fast as they left the nest the father took them in charge, and left the cares of home to the mother. I often pitied him as he flew from branch to branch closely pursued by those three hungry nestlings, all begging for food at once. Not for one moment were they silent or satisfied. With wings quivering and mouths wide open, they were ever close behind him, and I marvelled many times at his untiring patience. His stronger wings would easily have carried him out of their reach, but he was their willing slave. When the fourth baby was out, his life became somewhat easier, for the mother bird shared his cares. It was at this time one afternoon, just as the sun was getting too low for best work with the camera, that we were able to catch this family one by one 107 NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH and get a photograph of them. They were easily posed, and the affair was attended with less interference on the part of the parents than one would suppose. This particular male oriole had a greater variety of song than any I have watched. The Love Song” early in §the morning, when his mate brooded the little eggs, seemed to say, Here am I, here am I, dear, dear.” A little later this was inter- spersed with a peculiar whistle of three notes and Contentment ^ After the Brood were hatched, it changed to a rising inflec- tion and three notes. But many were the variations during the long June day. Often have I hurried out of doors at the call of a new bird note, only to find that the singer was my oriole. How could I recognize him ? By the redness of the orange at his throat and his trim slender body. This was, I think, his first experience in family cares. io8 THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL The inmates of the other oriole home were less fortunate than these, for when the babies were first hatched a cat caught the mother while she was getting food on the ground. The father had not seen the tra- gedy, and for thirty-six hours he called her continually in a plaintive descending whistle. Not once did he sing or utter a joyous note, but called far into the night, as if wondering why she did not come. He tried to take her place with the little ones. I saw him carry food at intervals of three minutes during most of the day, and I am positive he slept that night in the nest, a thing male orioles are not supposed to do. But be- cause only one parent was there to watch, a cannibal blue jay found those babies in the father’s absence and carried them off, one each morning, to a tree quite near and ate them. It has been hard not to hate the jays since then, and I am ready to accuse them of many of the robberies committed in the bird-world. Strange as it may seem, the oriole did not mourn the loss of his nest- NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH lings as he had mourned that of his mate. Perhaps he felt unequal to the task of bringing up a family alone, and was re- lieved when, through no fault of his, the burden was lifted. no f A FOSTER BABY Joyous as morning Thou art laughing and scorning. WORDS\VOR’X\H.\ I A MOST bewitching bird is the fluffy little chickadee of kindergarten fame, so jolly, so debonair, so confiding withal. Watch him, ^hanging head downward from it bends v- it h ^^is weight. With a comical air of busi- ness !vr hunts Tinder each leaf, yet is instantly alert to your approach. Now he has spied you, and greets you with a title to which you may never have aspired. ‘‘A dee dee! a dee dee ’ ” he cries in mockery, until you laugh ' too, it is all so absurd. If you are patient he will come nearer and enter into quite a chat with you, provided you can reply in his own language. It had long been the desire of my heart to find a chickadee's nest ; so when, on the tenth ■: