ae ete e ge : Smithsonian Institution ibrartes Alexander Wetmore 1940 ees 1953 2 en ee 1 oe a carr me NESELINGS, OF ORES AND MARSH ‘ yi, he i y NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH By IRENE GROSVENOR WHEELOCK With Twelve Full-Page Photogravures and many Illustrations in the text from Original Photographs from Nature by Harry B. Wheelock CHICAGO A. Ca McChuRG- Co: 1902 SMITH “ONaD LIBRARIES "ae? ¢ —— ae (es McCture AND Co. 7 _ ve _ a ; ris ieae ne te So ani *s = 5 Doe z a! a . oe : _ COPYRIGHT, +t4s.7 Sache aan PuntisHep Marca, 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 flits and glances ; And to see how the face of common day Is written all over with tender histories. James Russett Lowey FOREWORD MS ete 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 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. ) fe) CONT EIN ES PAGE PEAS PIONEDRe - Pecur wey Mature ee eee eae ee teay oe 17 eUaINUAYo@NIOWING 1 Styrene het hl), ch.) Sede rate Me, ihe | 29 Ext CAPITAN Cetsae eaMeL er cis C7 emits uel eaten 42 AQ NIINSDREL: OF THEY MARSHES! 5 ie) Gea) eis, 152) PAC MARTINED IN PEATHERS Ys. .c5 3 so os Ha eden 62 PUMGS@ BABIES: sta Se Pom gaara st ue eee we Laem 7m PHEBES WANDS EHEIR (COUSINS) 5) 4. 9. te say 3 6 Ke) Shey HOUSEMSEAUTIFUE)<- Ave EOIN 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 ; Telling tales about the sun, When we’ve little warmth, or none. WORDSWORTH. HROUGHOUT 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 2 17 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 1s 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 “ll 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 18 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 snail-shells 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 I 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 depression 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 Meadow lark’s nest and eggs, with and two on the sheltering grasses removed 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. 2I 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. Ina 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; percent,” 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 AV 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 3oth 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 delight. 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 eens 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. A MAY MOVING O bluebird, up in the maple-tree Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee ; 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. ALKING 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- HI pecker’s home, I began to fear they had decided upon it. “She who hesitates is lost,’ and while Madani swase still looking at empty houses this one was preempted by nut- hatches. When next she approached it in blind confi- dence with mouth Bluebird’s nest in hollow tree 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. Ina 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 adoor-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 i allow Ree Chie Baby bluebirds twelve days old 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, 26 ro} 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— “ Trually, 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- Sih 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 adrum. 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 trees PEVCAR DEAN *T is always morning somewhere, And above the awakening continents from shore to shore Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. LoNGFELLOW. ARLY 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 Ewe CArPrrAN 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 contempt 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; onee il) decided ttoykeep 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 outré coloring? While 44 PENCAPELAN she was still hesitating, a rival suitor ap- peared. After a moment’s pause to look over the “points” of the new-comer, “ E] Capitan’ decided that “thegame was 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,nothe. 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 mostinteresting towatch Red-wing’s nest in rushes 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 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