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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2015
https://archive.org/details/birdsofpeasemarsOOmars
Choosing a home,
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
By
E. L. MARSH
ILLUSTRATED
By Photos and Sketches from The Sanctuary
THE MUSSON BOOK CO., LIMITED
Publishers TORONTO
Copyright Canada, 1919
THE MUSSON BOOK CO., LIMITED
Publishers - - TORONTO
PRINTED IN CANADA
To
the memory of
my Mother and Father ,
the founders of
Peasemarsh.
the Georgian Bay region , the author
of “ Birds of Ontario in Relation to
Agriculture ” who has studied bird life
throughout the Dominion, has said that
it is one of the greatest of bird homes and
one of which but little has been written,
and that greater notice should be given to
the protection of birds in this part of
Canada . Concerning Peasemarsh Sanctu-
ary, Mr. Nash has carried out this sug-
gestion, interesting himself in all our
questions, from the mysterious disappear-
ance of Indigo Bunting's eggs to the pro-
tection of the Grouse in the bush, or the
Heron on the pond. Only those who are
endeavoring alone in far-away places to
protect the feathered creatures can realize
how much such an interest that never fails
can give to the Sanctuary.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
Introduction; The Orchard in June - - - 1
CHAPTER II
The Value of Birds - - - 11
CHAPTER III
The Adaptability of Birds; The Chimney
Swift 21
CHAPTER IV
Barn Swallows and Their Use of Old
Buildings 29
CHAPTER V
The Barn Swallow's Relatives 37
CHAPTER VI
Birds that Nest in Hollow Trees 43
CHAPTER VII
Thrushes, Thrashers, AVak wings, Kinglets,
AVarblers, Vireos - - 59
CHAPTER VIII
Flycatcher Family : Lark, Tanager - ... 71
CHAPTER IX
The Family of Finches and Sparrows - - - 77
CHAPTER X page
Meadowlark, Bobolink, Oriole, Blackbird,
COWBIRD ------- 91
CHAPTER XI
Goatsucker Family; Cuckoo Family; Pigeon
Family ----- - - 101
CHAPTER XII
Resident Birds ----------- 107
CHAPTER XIII
Resident Game Birds - - - 115
CHAPTER XIY
Birds of Shore and Marsh - - 121
CHAPTER XY
Shore Birds and Waders -------- 129
CHAPTER XYI
Wild Geese, Swans and Ducks - - - - - 139
CHAPTER XYII
Migration of Birds 147
CHAPTER XYIII
Need of Protection for Birds - - - - - - 157
CHAPTER XIX
Bird Enemies - ' - - - - 169
CHAPTER XX
English Sparrow as a Nuisance
179
CHAPTER XXI page
Attracting Birds by Food, Drinking Foun-
tains and Nesting Material - - - - - 189
CHAPTER XXII
How to Make and Hang Nest Boxes - - - - 197
CHAPTER XXIII
Nesting Sites 209
CHAPTER XXIV
Bird Clubs and Sanctuaries ------ 219
CHAPTER XXV
“Little Feathered Brothers” 229
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Choosing a home Frontispiece
(1) The Bluebird’s nest inside the nest box; (2) The
burrows of the Bank Swallow; (3) Temporary chim-
ney erected for the Swifts - - - - Facing page 21
(1) Flicker making an entrance; (2) A home which
affords a better view; (3) Young Flicker at en-
trance Facing page 43
(1) The weaving of the Oriole that has withstood the
winter’s storms; (2) The Yireo’s nest: note loops
of birch bark Facing page 91
The home of the Grouse Facing page 115
(1) A fox hole in the bank; (2) One red squirrel less;
(3) Indigo Bunting’s nest - - - - Facing page 169
(1) Nest box attached to board and nailed to tree; (2)
Boof, with plug to hold it in place; (3) Nest box,
with straight hollow; (4) Nest box in Fig. 2, with
roof adjusted Facing page 197
Photos from the Sanctuary — (1) Father Bluebird at nest
box; (2) The Bittern on her nest; (3) Baby Mourn-
ing Doves; (4) Baby Bluebird the day it came out
of nest box in Fig. 1 Facing page
219
Birds of Peasemarsh
CHAPTER I
THE ORCHARD IN JUNE
AT four o’clock every morning in June a
glorious concert commences in the
orchard. From that early morning
hour until the Vesper Sparrow sings his last
good night there is scarcely a moment without
music. One of the earliest singers is the
Song Sparrow, but the most persistent is the
little Wren. Beautifully these blend with
other morning songs, some at our very door,
some far down at the foot of the orchard. The
Brown Thrasher sings his good morning from
the top branch of a tall maple, the whistling
note of the Oriole comes from the elms, the
Meadowlark calls from the edge of the orchard
and Bobolink’s silvery notes come over the
meadow.
When one considers the number and variety
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
of songs one is constantly hearing one wonders
that the birds can do anything but sing. But
they work while they sing. The little Wrens
have hunted high and low for the right kind
of sticks to carry into their nest boxes. To-day
one little Jenny Wren came home with a very
long hen’s feather and judging by the trium-
phant singing of her mate it must have been a
rare treasure. Already the Flickers in the hol-
low tree have a young family to feed. The
appetites of the young Robins are increasing
every day, and to fill the little open mouths the
parent birds are diligently hunting in the gar-
dens.
The Warblers are busy going over the trees.
Judging by the number of sweet warbling
voices one hears the Green and Yellow
Warblers are especially numerous, so they
must have had a safe flight from their winter
quarters far across the Gulf of Mexico. Many
other members of the Warbler family have
been seen. One day the Black-throated Green
Warbler came to the wood-pile, a place which
seems to have a great fascination for all the
smaller birds.
A pair of Kingbirds have come recently to
[2]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the orchard and this is well, for they will help
keep off the Crows and Blackbirds. Until
they decided to settle here, the Robins were the
only ones plucky enough to attempt to drive
out such bird-nesting marauders, which have
grown too numerous of late for the welfare of
the song birds. Up near the house one hears
the insistent note of the Kingbird’s cousin,
the Phoebe, and from the wooded bank at the
foot of the orchard comes the note of the Wood
Peewee. The Bank is also the home of Chick-
adee and Nuthatch and some of our bright
plumaged birds have found it a favorite spot.
A Scarlet Tanager seems to have chosen a tree
there, while another is often seen in a thicket
left for the birds in the centre of the orchard.
The Goldfinches are now numerous and add
their sweet voices to the chorus, the Purple
Finch and the Indigo Bunting are heard in
bush or tree and the voice of the Yellow-billed
Cuckoo comes now and then from the old Spy
trees that edge the hill.
The Red-headed Woodpecker, not Downy
with only the red spot, but the Woodpecker
which wears red feathers on his entire head,
is heard near by, but his home is in the woods
[3]
B
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
below the bank. Downy lives nearer and the
sound of his tap, tap, tap reaches up to the
window. From near the barn comes the liquid
note of the Bluebird as he keeps watch over his
nest box. He has had a trying time, for some
European Sparrows have gained a foothold
about the barn and have worried him inces-
santly.
In the late afternoon one hears the musical
twitter of the Swallows and the Swifts circling
about high above the tree tops. Then when
night comes and the last bird song has ceased,
there can be heard far in the distance the Whip-
poor-will and the Night Hawk. The others
had the day, to these belong the night and the
night flying insects. So every hour the orchard
has its bird voices. What would it be without
the beautiful plumage, the sweet songs, and
more than all the good deeds of the feathered
creatures ?
June was by no means the beginning of their
songs. They had been there for weeks, some
coming before there was a sign of April foliage,
before even the April showers had washed away
the snow banks, and all through those dis-
couraging days they trilled and whistled and
[4]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
sang that Spring was on her way. Thus they
cheered the human beings who waited through
snow and rain and cold for the slow coming of
springtime, for birds do not forget any spot
where it is possible to nest. They go where
Spring comes late. Sometimes it is late in
coming to Peasemarsh here on the western
shore of the Georgian Bay at the foot of the
Blue Mountains, but the birds do not despair;
they are the same bright guests here as in all
places within their range.
Always this has been a favorite spot for
birds. They were here before the first white
man came this way. One reads of them in the
very few stories and legends that have come
down to us from the Indians that once peopled
this country. The Indians must have studied
the habits of the birds in the very spot where
they are singing in the orchard, for just under
the hill was once an old Indian village, and the
trail leading from it, to distant camps on the
bay, crossed what is now the orchard and the
meadow.
So far as we know, the Indians, going back
and forth from their village, passed under the
old elm where now hangs the Bluebird house.
[5]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
There were Bluebirds then, as there are now,
but the Indians called them “specks of sky,”
and fragments of a legend have been indirectly
handed down. It seems that when the birds
received their clothing from the Great Spirit,
the Bluebirds, having a maimed one in their
family, were delayed on their way and arrived
at the spot where the Great Spirit had sent the
clothes just after all the feathers had been
chosen by other birds. Then the Great Spirit
said, because they had not deserted their weak
birdling they should be clothed in fragments of
the covering of his tent in the sky, and bits of
the blue came down, taking the form of
feathers, and sunset shades for their breasts.
The Bluebirds chose the house on the elm as
their home one cold April morning, just after
it was put up, and they have held it ever since,
though the Sparrows tried their utmost to put
them out. Judging from their apparent satis-
faction at finding it, they had had a long weary
search for a safe and suitable nesting place.
It was a pair of tiny Wrens that first drew
our attention to the need of nest boxes for the
birds. For several years these Wrens had
nested just under the roof of the front veran-
[6]
BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
dah where the weather beaten wood, beginning
to decay, left a crevice. On June mornings their
singing sounded through the whole house.
They never seemed to be alarmed at any noise
from inside, but rather to enjoy it, and at the
sound of the piano they were overwhelmed
with delight. During each summer two broods
were successfully hatched and added their little
voices to the sweet Wren chorus.
Then it happened that early one year, before
they had come back from the south, the veran-
dah had to be repaired. New wood took the
place of the old, mouldering rafter where the
Wrens had nested, and this was freshly painted.
Upon their return the Wrens inspected it, but
alas, the little hollow and the old, mouldering
wood were gone, and they were suspicious of
the newness that had taken its place. They
would not nest there again. They did not
leave the house, however, but flitted back and
forth round the back door, where there was no
new wood and no fresh paint. Before long it
was discovered that they were nesting in a rag
bag that hung on the back of the door in the
summer kitchen, and were going in and out
through the open window. In that nest in the
[7]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
bag they hatched out their families undisturbed
by the commotion of the summer cooking ; fre-
quently they alighted on the table among the
dishes. Very neat housekeepers they were.
When they had gone in the fall the rag bag, ex-
cept for the little nest of sticks, was as clean as
before it had been occupied.
The next summer they made a nest just
under the roof of the back verandah, but here
they came to grief. It was a year when beech-
nuts were scarce and the red squirrels came to
the barns and the trees about the houses for
food to fill their larders. When the little Wrens
were hatching their second brood a squirrel
found them out. The frantic scolding of the
birds brought out the occupants of the house,
but it was too late to save the eggs. The
squirrel had dined, and with egg smeared over
his whiskers and paws had made his way off.
We could only condole with the bereaved birds
and promise them that if they would stay with
us we would find some way of providing them
a safe nesting place. The little house put up
for the Wrens the next spring was but the be-
ginning of what could be done for the safety of
the feathered tenants. Three years have passed
[8]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
since then. Each year there has been some-
thing fresh to do for the birds. Each year has
brought back their children and grand chil-
dren, and now bird houses dot the grounds.
[9]
CHAPTER II
THE VALUE OF BIRDS
THE tragedy that came to the little Wrens
is but the tragedy that has come to birds
all over the country far and wide, wher-
ever they have sought to make their homes.
Time and again they have been forced to leave
the spot they had chosen and search out distant
nesting places. If people could realize the
loss to garden and orchard and farm when even
one pair of useful birds gives up housekeeping
there, the loss to the whole country should one
little family of nestlings be wiped out, men,
women and children would work together to
keep the feathered creatures with them.
The number of injurious insects destroyed
by birds is beyond estimate. Anyone doubtful
of the good they do should watch a pair of tiny
house Wrens feeding their young nestlings and
try to count the number of times in one hour
that they come to the nest with food, some-
times not only with one insect but with a
beakful. About thirty times an hour is a low
[11]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
average from one count made here. Multiply
that by the number of hours they work; they
start about four o’clock in the morning, and the
babies’ supper is not over until twilight. Mul-
tiply again by the number of days they are
there and add to this what the mother and
father must devour. Then, later, when the
babies are grown and hunting for themselves
and the mother and father are raising a second
family, add what the young family must
catch. And if a third family be raised,
as is sometimes the case, if conditions have
been favorable and the nest has been safe, add
what the second family must hunt for them-
selves wThile the old birds are feeding the third
nestlings. One must not forget that a family
of Wrens consists of from four to seven or
eight, which makes from eight to sixteen
birdlings in the two families that are hunting
insects and eating as much as they possibly
can, which is an astonishing amount for their
size. The answer to the problem will be a long
array of figures, and it indicates the number of
insects less in the garden because Jenny Wren
built her nest there and was left in peace to
rear her family.
[12]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
We had never considered diminutive Jenny
a potato bug eater, but last summer a wren
house was placed in a tree which grew beside
a small potato patch. Until the Wrens had
flown no bugs injured those potato plants.
Other birds may have helped to keep them
down, but one thing is certain, the Wrens ap-
peared to be taking a great many when very
small. They would not, of course, take them
when full grown, but they seemed to give them
little chance to grow. It is not wise to lay
down rules and regulations for any species of
birds. They seem to be possessed of individu-
ality and circumstances may alter their habits.
It is wonderful how far their sharp little eyes
can see. That same summer a few sweet peas
grew beside the kitchen door. While all went
well with those sweet peas the Wrens took no
interest in them, they flew in other directions
for their food. But one morning little green
insects appeared on the vines and directly the
Wrens were there.
Some bird landlords assert that there are ob-
jections to Wren neighbors, that they prevent
other birds from nesting near them, but so far
we have not known them to do anything worse
[ 13 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
than monopolize more bird houses than they
require. Apart from the value of the Wrens
as insect destroyers they are charming neigh-
bors. Their soft brown feathers and their
sharp bright eyes make them very attractive
creatures as they flit about the door and
windows, and, more than all, their songs are a
delight. Being of so confiding a nature they
will sing very near to us. Last year a family of
young Wrens hatched in a house near the wood
shed, took their singing lessons on the wood
pile, sending out from that dull, humble spot a
chorus of sweetest song.
The Wren is but one of the many birds that
would gladly come nearer if they found it safe
to do so. There are birds that gather their
food from the injurious grubs and insects of
the ground, birds that live on the flies, midges
and other pests of the air, and some, like the
Barn Swallow, that devour the flies that are
such a torment to horses and cattle. There
are birds that work among the leaves of trees
and shrubs, and birds that hammer away the
loose bark of the tree trunks and branches,
searching out the insects from underneath.
Without birds the fruit grower and the farmer
[14]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
would be defeated by hordes of insect pests that
would devour the trees and the crops. The cut-
worm alone which, by cutting the stalk at the
surface of the ground, destroys every plant it
attacks, if allowed to increase, would menace
the production of the most fertile acres. Na-
ture, however, has given birds that feed upon
the ground some mysterious way of locating
these worms hidden under the ground, and
strong, sensitive beaks with which they dig
them out.
The agricultural value of birds has long been
recognized in England. In no country are they
more carefully protected, and probably in no
country has there been less destruction of crops
by insect pests.
In New Zealand, where wingless birds
abound, they have been given sanctuaries
where they are protected. Had this not been
done they would have been forced to hide away
in some dense thickets, and would soon have
become extinct as they could not long have
escaped the wild creatures that prey upon
them, or the gunner and his dog. The guardian
of these sanctuaries in writing of the wingless
birds as insect destroyers, remarks that, “If
[15]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
they were difficult to get fruit growers would
be quite keen about them.”
So often the real use of wild creatures is not
realized until it is too late. In understanding
and protecting the birds there is no time to lose,
for many have been rapidly decreasing in num-
bers in the very districts where they are most
needed.
There is a story of a bird landlord who
studied the habits of birds and endeavored so
successfully to give them what they required
that they came in thousands to his estate.
There is also the story of the summer when an
insect plague came to that country and every
green thing round about was devoured, yet this
estate remained as green and verdant as ever.
The birds that he had attracted about him pro-
tected him from the insects that were sweeping
through the land.
In Salt Lake City there is a monument, and
engraven on it are the Sea Gulls coming to the
rescue of a stricken people. A horde of black
crickets had come down upon the land devour-
ing every green thing, and leaving the fields
of bountiful crops bare as the desert. Sud-
denly, from no one knew where, there came
[ 16 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
down into those fields thousands and thou-
sands of Gulls, and the march of the devastat-
ing horde of crickets ceased. As they had de-
voured the crops the Gulls devoured them.
Later the monument was erected to commem-
orate the event and as a symbol of the protec-
tion which the people would give to the Gulls
that had saved them from starvation.
There are many instances where during in-
sect plagues birds have come from all the
country round and saved the infested district.
If, however, the insect plague comes at the nest-
ing season the birds do not gather in flocks and
fly to distant places. The particular spot where
birds are nesting has the advantage. The birds
are always there.
If one had watched in the orchard as well as
listened that June morning one would have
seen the Vesper Sparrow, the Song Sparrow
and all their cousins visiting the weed patches
and devouring seeds. Just at that time they
were eating dandelion seeds that would have
blown in the wind and spread over the lawn.
Later, as seeds ripen, they eat the seeds of more
injurious weeds. One would have seen also
that the Thrush, having finished his song in the
[ 17 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
tree top, descends to the ground and searches
for insects. The Oriole is hunting among the
branches for caterpillars, the Meadowlark and
the Bobolink are hunting for worms and
beetles in the meadow, the Robin is digging
them up in lawn and garden, while the Cuckoo
does not hesitate to pounce upon a full grown
hairy caterpillar, a thing at which most birds
would look askance. The Warbler, Nuthatch,
and Chickadee keep innumerable insects off
the trees, neglecting neither trunk, branches
nor leaves. Very thorough is their work. It
seems all the same to these birds whether they
are clinging to the branch upside down or right
side up so long as their sharp little beaks can
reach insects spied out by their sharp little
eyes. Each one among them is an expert in its
work. The Kingbird and Phoebe and the
Wood Peewee are dining on winged insects, and
the members of the Finch family are helping
the Sparrows with the weed seeds. The Blue-
bird is busy gathering his particular choice of
insects. The Swallows are hunting the flies,
and the little black Swifts, circling about high
above the elms, are busy with the insects of the
air.
[18]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
The habits of one species of our insectivor-
ous birds alone shows that, as well as being a
chorus of songsters, the feathered creatures are
an army of workers. The birds cannot answer
in words the question, “What good are they?”
which, strange to say, is still sometimes asked.
But anyone who takes time to watch them for
a few moments has a very forceful answer,
though a silent one, “Always deeds speak
louder than words.”
c
[19 1
1. The Bluebird’s nest inside the nest box. (Page 174.)
2. The burrows of the Bank Swallow. (Page 35.)
3. Temporary chimney erected for the Swifts. (Page 23.)
CHAPTER III
THE ADAPTABILITY OF BIRDS CHIMNEY SWIFT
A VISIT to any country home where
trees are numerous and birds have
been protected shows how wonder-
fully they have adapted themselves to human
habitations and accepted any protection that
human beings will give them. They are found
nesting in the stable, in the barn, along the
rafters, in the sheds, in the trees about the barn
and house, in protected fence corners, in the
garden, on the vines growing over the house,
under the roof of the verandah and in the
chimney.
At this very place less than three hundred
years ago the birds had not seen a human
habitation save those of the Indians, and had
never been forced to leave their natural nest-
ing places in the trees or the caves, among the
wild ferns and grasses, or beside the silent
streams and lakes where no gun had ever been
heard.
[21]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Now, except in distant parts, the lonely
woods and the caves have been taken from
them and the streams and lakes are no longer
safe and silent. The birds must either follow
the retreating woods farther and farther back,
or nest near the homes of man. Many of them
did not require three hundred years to adapt
themselves to the changed condition and the
surroundings of the white man. They gave
him their confidence when he first came among
them and where that confidence has not been
abused the birds have made their homes for
years.
One of the first birds to leave its native
haunts and come to the habitation of man was
the Chimney Swift. There is great danger
that it may be one of the first to disappear.
For most people it has already become but a
memory. For some it is not even a memory,
but only a romance as unreal as the tales of
elves and fairies. For some, however, it is still
more than a romance and more than a
the chimney as surely as the coming of spring,
memory, it is a real living being that returns to
Those rare ones are they who have remained
in some old home, with its weather-beaten
[22]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
gables, its shingled roof, and its chimney that
stands high above the tree-tops. Down be-
neath the chimney is the old wood fire-place,
old wood furnace, or huge wood-stove. It is a
big broad chimney with plenty of room to ac-
commodate the Chimney Swift’s numerous
family and still leave space enough for the old
ones to move about and bring food to the little
ones. In such a chimney live the Chimney
Swifts, Chimney Swallows they are frequently
called, though they do not belong to the swal-
low family.
All the bright, hot June days they give little
evidence of their presence there, but at twilight,
when the sunset sky is gold and crimson behind
the elms, they dart out and circle widely round,
high above the chimney and the tree-tops,
sometimes darting downwards and then up
again, then down the chimney, then out again,
as if they were playing some absorbing bird
game. In reality they are catching, on the
wing, supper for all the hungry nestlings.
When they dart down the chimney there can
be heard in the room from which it opens the
chatter of the little ones as the mouths open
for the midges, mosquitoes and various other
[23]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
insects their mother is bringing. At intervals
this chatter can be heard until late at night, for
in hot weather the Chimney Swifts catch their
food at night and in the early morning. In the
cooler days, however, they may be seen hunting
for insects during the day.
A Chimney Swift’s nest is supposed to con-
tain four or five eggs, but on looking down our
old chimney one year, no less than ten were
counted. Whether they all hatched out we do
not know, but one thing is certain, the nest
was full to overflowing, for one wee little black
Chimney Swift was crowded out and, tumbling
over the edge, slipped down into the stove pipe,
the accident causing such a twittering and
chattering and fluttering among them all that
the pipe had to be taken apart and the baby
Chimney Swift restored to its family, other-
wise the family of humans would have had but
little sleep that night.
“Why do you let them stay?” some people
ask. “Are they not a nuisance?” They are
not a nuisance and why should they not stay?
Is it not they who catch the mosquitoes and
night insects, thus making our verandah a rest-
ful place on the hot summer evenings ?
[24]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
One winter, when the Swifts were away in the
south, the house was burned and only the stone
wall left standing. The Swift’s chimney was
gone. In the early spring when the birds were
coming back we began to think about our dusty
little friends and wonder where they could go.
The children were in despair. They said the
Swifts might think we had burned the house
down on purpose so they could no longer nest
with us. Such a misunderstanding with our
old and valued tenants, the Chimney Swifts,
would never do. Something had to be done.
Finally it was suggested that a chimney
should be made of lumber and fastened up in
the same place. This was done, four pieces of
lumber being nailed together in the form of a
square. As these boards were thirty feet long,
this tall chimney, when resting on the top of the
remains of the furnace in the cellar, reached up
above the wall in the very place where the
Swift’s chimney had been. A little fire was put
in the furnace, so that the smoke, escaping
through the long board chimney, would give
it a blackened appearance that might make the
birds feel more at home. It was not quite so
roomy as the brick chimney had been, but we
[ 25 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
had faith in their adaptability and felt sure
they would be satisfied and glue their little nest
of sticks on the inside wall, as they had done in
the old chimney.
No birds have a more remarkable way of
building their nests. They break the twigs, of
which they are made, from the trees, and glue^
them to the chimney with saliva from their
mouths. If a hot fire should be built after the
nest is finished there is danger that the glue
will melt and let it down. With the memory
of the Chimney Swifts comes the memory of
cool June evenings when the fire was not
started for fear of bringing some calamity to
the nest or nestlings in the chimney above.
Poor little Chimney Swifts, they are all too
few ! . Modern roofing, modern chimneys and
people with most precisely modern ideas as to
heating are fast forcing these innocent little
creatures out from among us. And where can
they go? When the land was settled by the
white man they came to his chimneys from the
caves and the hollow trees, where they had
natural chimneys. Now the white man has
disposed of those natural nesting places. If
he no longer allows them a place in his
[26]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
chimneys he is driving them away forever.
The Chimney Swift has an undying place in
story and in romance. The very mention of
the name recalls the tales of childhood and
brings up visions of buildings old and moss
grown. To preserve a few chimneys adapted
to their needs will save them for the children of
the future, so that they, too, may watch at twi-
light for the little black creatures that dart up-
wards from some old chimney and circle about
above the tree-tops as they catch their evening
meal.
[27]
CHAPTER IV
THE BARN SWALLOW AND ITS USE OF DESERTED
BUILDINGS
THE Barn Swallow is another bird that
has adapted itself to human habitations.
As its safe nesting places disappeared, it
came to man to make its home, plastering its
tiny nest on some nook or corner of his build-
ings. The nest of the Barn Swallow is very
wonderfully made. Unfortunately the great-
est builders often have the greatest difficulties.
The useful, beautiful, unoffending Barn Swal-
lows have had such a hard time among us that
a lecturer on birds recently made the statement
that they were becoming extinct.
Because they are beautiful birds, have a
confidential nature, and build about the barns
and out-houses they have been, in past days, a
mark for boys who knew no better than to
shoot them, proud of the number they were
able to bring down. Bird-lovers have done
much to lessen this evil. Children are learning
the benefit of birds and are becoming interested
[29]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
in the protection of all wild life, so that in-
stead of boasting of the number of birds they
have shot they tell of the number of nests they
are protecting. Not long ago a fine marksman
was heard to say, “Just to think I used to shoot
the Swallows! I did not know what a sin it
was.” But he is making it up to the Swallows
now, for he is protecting them from the annoy-
ance of European Sparrows, as well as from
other enemies.
The Swallows can nest about the stone
foundations of the barn, where they are com-
paratively safe from cats and red squirrels, but
the Sparrows they cannot evade. These will
deliberately sit about and watch the hard work-
ing Swallows build their nest. The chances
are they will take it away from them as soon
as it is finished. If, however, the Swallows
hold their own with them, they are likely to
throw out the eggs, or still worse, the little
ones as soon as they are hatched, and the poor
Swallows are forced to build again for their
second family, or leave altogether, as they fre-
quently do. If they succeed in remaining
through the nesting season it is very likely
that when they return in the spring they will
[30]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
find that while they were away the Sparrows
took possession, holding the nest even though
they may not want to nest there.
And what a wonderful nest this European
Sparrow has usurped, the sort of a nest he could
never have built for himself. No one could
watch a Swallow build without the greatest
wonder and admiration. They can plaster a
nest on a beam or wall so firmly that it will re-
main a fixture for years. Down in the mud
puddles they find their plaster, and their beaks
are their trowels. They will work away in the
puddles getting mud of the exact constituency
required. Then away they go, plaster it on that
wonderful little structure, and back they come
for more. If the season is very dry they can be
greatly helped, and sometimes attracted to a
place, if some mud is kept near, on some old
boards or in a broken box.
Though it may take time, ingenuity and pa-
tience to protect the Barn Swallows, it is well
worth while, for every particle of food they
take is lessening our insect pests. If forced out
of our barns and sheds to nest they will be at
the mercy of their natural enemies, larger and
more deadly than European Sparrows, and
[31]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
when it is too late we shall awake to the fact
that there are no more fork-tailed Barn
Swallows.
Often these birds search out some old desert-
ed house or barn and there build their nests.
This is for safety rather than from preference,
for they seem to be naturally sociable
creatures. Through sad experiences they have
learned that in occupied buildings they are not
always unmolested.
The farther away the Swallows are driven
the more flies there will be about the buildings.
Anyone who has the slightest doubt that they
are the best fly catchers should watch them
when they are feeding their young. Back and
forth they flit, catching flies to fill the open
mouths. Each day they are bringing comfort
to the four-legged creatures of the barn yard.
In the old horse stable here we have had, for
many years, a Barn Swallow’s nest plastered
on the side of one of the beams. Other pairs
nest about the old sheds, but this pair have
clung to their nest in the horse stable. Each
year they have hatched twice. Last year they
brought out the first family in safety, and it
was a family any Barn Swallow might well be
[ 32 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
proud of as they flitted about the yard catch-
ing flies for themselves. But they came to grief
with the second lot. These were found one
morning lying dead on the stable floor. A pair
of European Sparrows that all summer had
dodged our efforts to get them must have done
the deed. So the next year we shall have one
family of Swallows less to catch the flies in our
barnyard.
In a stable not far away the fork-tailed Barn
Swallows had nested in safety high above the
horses for a number of years. Then came a
summer when a new chore boy appeared, and
scarcely had they begun to hatch their first
nestlings, when down came the nest, and the
little broken eggs lay scattered on the stable
floor. The Swallows would not go into the
stable again all summer, and all summer long
the horses were tormented by a horde of flies.
Had that boy, when a child at school, heard
something of the value of birds and learned to
regard them as friends and neighbors that
Swallow’s nest would never have come down,
and the old farm horses could have taken their
meals in peace.
It is little wonder that such experiences make
[33]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the birds go to the buildings unoccupied by
man. In looking through an old deserted
church that years ago had been the centre of an
Indian mission, it was found to contain eight
nests of fork-tailed Swallows that had found
their way in through some open niche.
“So the old church is still doing missionary
work,” said the bird lover who lingered there.
One of the most picturesque homes of the
birds is an old house on a foothill of the Blue
Mountains, overlooking what was once an
Indian battle ground. Outside the steep roof,
picturesque gables and quaint knocker ; inside,
the carved staircase, broad fireplace and wall
cupboards in unexpected corners proclaim its
age. It is the boyhood home of one of Canada’s
brilliant men who passed away only a few years
ago. For some time the old home has been
unoccupied by human beings, but the feathered
creatures had found it out. Little Wrens
nested in crevices about the buildings and
fork-tailed Swallows plastered their nests
under the eaves. One night a violent storm
of wind and rain broke a pane of glass in one
of the upstairs windows. A pair of Barn Swal-
lows that Sparrows had chased from a near-by
[34]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
barn found it, and built their nest inside the
room, just over the door. This room proved a
haven of safety for the Birds. No cat could
reach it, no red squirrels could run up the
window pane to the hole where the birds went
through, and carry off the nestlings. No nest
robbing creature could enter there. There was
nothing about the house to attract the European
Sparrows, no chickens were being fed and no
grain was dropped about, so the Swallows were
unmolested. They came year after year, and
with them came many of the young of the year
before. Anyone who chanced to approach the
old house would see at all times birds circling
about the chimneys, the gables and the tree
tops, adding much to the picturesqueness of
the sight.
This year the house has been occupied for a
few months, but the family living there have
not used the room where the Swallows have
their nests, nor have they disturbed them in
any way. The birds come in and out as before.
They may well let them stay, for they have
kept down the flies, while the Chimney Swifts
have kept the mosquitoes in check, and the
> Wrens nesting in the crevices outside, the
[35]
D
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Flickers in the hollow trees, and all the other
birds that have found a haven there, have
done their share towards keeping the old gar-
den and the orchard trees free from insects.
There is nothing remarkable about the con-
dition of affairs at this old home. The birds
have found safety and so they have come in
greater numbers each year. Every country
home might have the same bird guests and the
same freedom from insect pests if the birds
were protected from cats, squirrels and other
enemies, man included, and permitted to have
suitable nesting places. There are no more
valuable tenants than the feathered workers,
and none among them is more in need of hos-
pitality and appreciation than the fork-tailed
Barn Swallows. If we would keep them with
us it is time to consider their needs while some
still linger.
[36]
CHAPTER V
THE BARN SWALLOW^ RELATIVES
BESIDES the Barn Swallow we have all
his cousins, the Bank Swallow, the Tree
Swallow, the Cliff Swallow, and the
Purple Martin working late and early to keep
down the flies, gnats and other winged insects
that otherwise would make our summers un-
bearable. And, like the Barn Swallow, all the
family are growing rarer as their old nesting
places are taken from them.
Large numbers of Bank Swallows have been
going farther from cultivated lands, an evi-
dence that the formation of the river banks is
changing and the high sand bank, where they
would be unmolested, is disappearing. Noth-
ing could be more interesting than to watch
these birds in nesting season. Unlike the Barn
and Tree Swallows, they nest in colonies. For
their nests they have burrowed into the bank
so cleverly that they seem safe from all bird
enemies. Creatures that live along the
streams, however, sometimes search them out,
[37]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
and there are instances where colonies of
Bank Swallows have been destroyed by mink.
These birds soon learn to know those who
are frequently about the sand bank, and will
go in and out feeding their young without the
slightest fear. But if they notice that they are
being observed by a stranger, they will flutter
about and alight upon almost every other cre-
vice in the bank than that which leads to their
nest. If the stranger sits down to watch they
will invariably manage to dart in at a moment
when his eyes are turned away, though this
precaution is hardly necessary, for their nests
are so deeply burrowed in the bank that it is
not at all likely he could reach them. They
have odd little safety devices too. Frequently
they make several excavations connected by
little tunnels, so that their exit and entrance
need not be through the one leading directly
to the nest, thus they can deceive a pursuer,
or, if need be, escape from the nest.
Here on the Indian River, about half a mile
from the Georgian Bay, where the sand banks
have been left in their natural state, there are
several colonies of Bank Swallows. One
colony nests where the river flows through
[38]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
what was once the site of an Indian village.
Some of the oldest residents who can remem-
ber the bank as it appeared in those days, say
it was high and sandy in places then as it is
now ; so it is likely that it has always been the
home of the Swallows, and this is doubtless
why swarms of black flies that have troubled
other places have not existed here.
Sometimes in the early summer evenings the
whole colony will join with the Swifts and
Barn Swallows and fly about above the tree
tops, here and there, in graceful curves and
circles. It is a beautiful sight to watch hun-
dreds of these birds circling above the house
and barn and elms and aspens, especially when,
as they come downwards or rise upwards,
their wings catch gleams from the setting sun.
Children will watch them for hours trying to
distinguish, even at that distance, the fork-tails
of the Barn Swallows and the blunt tails of the
Swifts.
Another member of the Swallow family that,
like the Barn Swallow, makes a nest of mud, is
the Cliff Swallow. This bird in its natural
state plasters its nest under cliffs, and hence
the name. It, too, will come to the buildings
[39]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
of man if unmolested, and plaster its nest on
any protected niche of the wall outside. Usu-
ally it builds directly under the eaves of any
old building where it appears likely to be un-
disturbed. Like the Barn Swallow it is a very
desirable tenant, and as it is willing to come
and live on our very buildings, we can have its
services close at hand if we will but encourage
it to come.
The little Tree Swallows have great difficulty
now-a-days in finding a nesting place where
they can have any degree of safety. They
make their nests, which are woven of straws
and grasses and lined with soft, downy feathers,
in holes in trees or stumps, preferably in the
vicinity of water. They are, however, much
more easily helped than the Bank Swallows.
It may not be possible to supply a sand bank,
but it is always possible to put up nest boxes,
and properly made ones will be gratefully ac-
cepted by Mr. and Mrs. Tree Swallow.
The Tree Swallows have decreased greatly
in numbers since the old days of Indians and
forests. Hollow trees, hollow stumps and de-
caying rails are very difficult to find and about
barns and sheds are many enemies; and al-
[40]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
ways there is the European Sparrow. Swallows
seem less able or less inclined to hold their
own than some other species of birds. If the
gentle Tree Swallows are persecuted by the
Sparrows when locating for the season they are
very likely to leave and not return again. The
men whose farms they leave are the losers. In-
stead of the useful family of Swallows they are
left with an aggressive nuisance that may keep
away other valuable small birds, as we shall
read later.
The Purple Martin is the largest member of
the Swallow family and a very beautiful bird.
Like the Bank Swallows, the Martins nest only
in colonies, but they build their nests in holes
in trees or stumps. Unfortunately they have
still greater difficulty than the Bank or Tree
Swallows in finding a nesting place. A sand
bank for a dozen or more, or a hollow tree that
will accommodate one nest is hard enough for
a feathered creature to find in cultivated lands,
but hollow trees that would accommodate from
twelve to twenty nests is almost out of the
question. Thus the Martins have been forced
farther and farther away. From many dis-
tricts they have disappeared so long that houses
[41]
B I R D S OF PEASEMARSH
put up for them remain unoccupied for years,
not necessarily because the houses do not suit
their requirements (though this is often enough
the case) , but because no Purple Martins have
passed that way to see them.
The Swallow family is one of the most de-
sirable feathered families. Not one among
them takes a particle of vegetable matter, their
entire food consisting of troublesome insects.
A few pairs of Tree Swallows near the house,
and some Barn Swallows in the stable, will
help much to give comparative relief from flies
and mosquitoes all summer long. That they
are not more numerous is not surprising when
their way is so full of difficulties. Like all
birds that get their food from the insects of
the air, often they are decreased in numbers
during untimely storms which clear the air of
insects. Though they have been known to re-
sort to the ground to hunt when the insects are
too chilled to fly, the flurries of snow which
often accompany the storms make this impos-
sible. One cannot cultivate the Barn Swallow
and his relatives without a growing sympathy
for these invaluable birds.
[42]
1. Flicker making an entrance. (Page 40.)
2. A home which affords a better view.
3. Young Flicker at entrance. (Page 41.)
CHAPTER VI
BIRDS THAT NEST IN HOLLOW TREES AND
STUMPS
LAST spring the Flickers were in the
orchard early in April, before there was
any appearance of spring foliage and
when the fields were bleak and bare. Before
the nest boxes were put up they had examined
all the trees that gave the slightest evidence of
a hollow centre. One of the main limbs of an
apple tree had been cut off, and the portion
where it had been cut was decaying in the
centre ; evidently the Flickers took it for a hol-
low tree and commenced boring a hole as round
and smooth as any bit could have made it.
When they had gone in a couple of inches and
found no further evidence that the tree was
hollow they gave it up and tried another, which
turned out to be really hollow ; and after mak-
ing an opening they secured an excellent nest.
Hard pushed for a home they must have been
to work so long at the hard apple wood. This
tree had been preserved for them after many
arguments with the men, who said it was in
[43]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the way of the plough, that it gave the orchard
a shiftless appearance, and that they could not
see the sense of going round a tree that no
longer bore fruit, and many other reasons why
the tree should come out.
But it was saved for the birds in the end, and
in it the Flickers spent a very busy time. The
decayed wood they pecked from around the
opening made a soft sawdusty lining, for the
Flicker builds no nest inside his house, and
here they hatched a family of five. Weary
work it must have been to feed them all, and
the old Flickers had no time to be disturbed
when a camera appeared, but flitted in and out
of the nest and were easily photographed.
Before very long the strongest of the family
appeared at the opening of the nest, calling
hoarsely for his mother to hurry with the
dinner. One day when he was thus engaged
a big Crow appeared, the Crow that only the
day before had carried off a young Robin. The
young Flicker ducked his head down and kept
very still; all his brothers and sisters were
quiet also; not a sound could be heard from
the tree that a moment before had been a very
bedlam of demanding voices. The old Flickers
[44]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
had been nowhere in sight when the Crow ap-
peared, but instantly they were both on the
spot. They were not to be taken unawares by
a bird-nesting Crow. The Crow knew it, and
soon went off to trouble them no more.
It was not long before the first young Flicker
came over the edge and began to try his wings,
and the one next strongest took his place at
the opening, till he too was out. Judging by
the fluttering about and the different tones one
heard, this was an anxious time for the old
birds. But in a remarkably short time all the
young ones could follow them about for their
food. As they grew older and were able to
hunt for themselves, the old birds would dis-
appear through the day and the young ones
would have to get their dinners as best they
could. But towards evening the family was re-
united, and one might suppose from appear-
ances that the young were giving an account of
the day’s work. Then they had supper together
in the orchard, or on the corner of the lawn,
where they had found an ant hill. One even-
ing the smallest of the family went up to the
mother and opened its mouth appealingly, but
she would not feed it. Very quickly and very
[45]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
forcibly she gave it to understand that it was
now a grown up young Flicker and the days of
following its mother about for food were gone
forever.
Poor little Flickers that in a few short weeks
must learn all the ways of the world of birds !
Only a few weeks before they were babies, one
family in the hollow tree, another in a nest box,
and another in a crevice in an old stone wall.
Now they must hunt their own meals, avoid
bird dangers, and in this the old familiar advice
“try, try again,” does not apply at all; the
first mistake means tragedy, and more than
this, they must soon be ready to start on the
long journey to the winter home. The birds
find no one to give them a lift on the way.
Their little wings must take them every mile
they go.
Of all the Woodpecker family perhaps the
Flicker, High-holder, or Golden-winged Wood-
pecker as it is sometimes called, has been in-
convenienced most by the changing conditions
of the country. Possibly this is because its food
is somewhat different from that of the other
Woodpeckers and it desires to nest nearer the
cleared land, for the Flicker is really a ground
[46]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
feeder and will devour great quantities of ants
and grasshoppers and ground insects. But,
poor Flicker ! where he finds the hunting
ground that he requires it is hard to find a de-
caying tree or a hollow stump in which to rear
his family.
The most beautiful member of the Wood-
pecker family is the Redheaded Woodpecker.
With his body all clear black and white, and
his head a brilliant red, he is a very noticeable
guest should he chance to visit the orchard in
the early spring. He is unfortunately more
shy and much more rare than the Flicker. As
he works among the trees and nests in hollow
trees or stumps, he has retired with the clear-
ing of the land and the disappearance of any
abundance of trees. His beauty has made him
a mark for the gunner, but fortunately this
danger is growing less as his value is better
known. A suitable nest box would attract
him and he would pay high rent by the work he
would do among the orchard or shade trees.
Here, where they have hollow trees in the
bush and swamp below the hill, they have
never chosen to occupy a nest box, though they
are often in the orchard and near the orchard.
[47]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Evidently they prefer their own natural sites
when procurable.
A far-seeing bird lover has remarked that
of all the Woodpecker family the Redhead is
most in danger of being lost to the farms.
When he states as evidence that in motoring
for thirty miles through the country he saw
only one (though Flicker and Downy were
quite numerous), his note of warning rings
true.
There is this about Redhead, if he once con-
sents to keep house in a hollow tree or a nest
box, he will come year after year, and so, care-
fully guarding his nesting place will help to
keep him with us.
The Redhead and little Downy, the black
and white Woodpecker with the red spot on the
back of his head, and his cousin Hairy, that
resembles him so closely, are among our most
beneficial workers among the trees. Their
sharp beaks can dig the grubs out of the wood
or hammer away the loose bark to get the in-
sects from underneath. Hairy and Downy
also nest in holes in trees, as do the Nuthatch
and the little Chickadee, but as these birds
spend the winter with us we shall read of them
[48]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
and of their good deeds among the trees in a
chapter on resident birds.
There is another member of the Woodpecker
family, however, whose usefulness is sometimes
wrongly questioned. This is the Sapsucker,
easily distinguished from the others by his
scarlet throat. Mrs. Sapsucker, however,
wears no scarlet at her throat. Sapsucker’s
name denotes the habit which has brought con-
demnation upon him, although authorities on
birds declare that his sapsucking does not in-
jure the trees, and that in other respects the
bird is as beneficial as his relatives, Downy
and Hairy and Redhead.
Long before man found out the use of sap
this woodpecker would bore small holes in the
bark in the spring when the sap was running.
This is why he is so often seen motionless on
a tree trunk. He is waiting for the sap which
is running from the hole he has made. Some,
however, believe that he does this more for the
insects that the sap attracts than for the sap
itself.
Here, near the house, is a maple where every
spring the Sapsucker comes, and late and early
may be seen on the tree where he has tapped it.
[ 49 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Possibly something in the location of the tree
attracts him. He is always seen on this par-
ticular one, though others are near by. This
Sapsucker’s tree is just as vigorous and its
foliage as green and shady as that of the other
maples.
In any case we know of no evidence that his
sapsucking has ever killed a tree, and very
often those who condemn him most are they
who do not hesitate to tap their maples, taking
from them much more than would flow from
the holes the Woodpecker has made. It is just
another instance of the Robin in the cherry tree.
The Sapsucker has helped to save the trees,
but the moment he helps himself to just a little
of what the tree produces out comes man’s gun.
If the birds could think human thoughts and
speak in human language what a story they
would have to tell.
Sapsucker’s nest is also in a hollow tree or
stump, but unlike Downy and Hairy, he goes
south for the winters with his cousin Redhead.
It is not always that an entire family of
birds nest in the same way as does the Wood-
pecker family. Some families differ widely in
their housekeeping requirements. The Crested
[50]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Flycatcher is the only member of his family to
nest in a hollow tree or stump. His cousins,
Kingbird and Wood Peewee, build their
nests usually on low trees, while his well
known cousin, Phoebe, is sure to be found
building on the rafter of some old building, or
in a niche of some wall, or possibly under an
old bridge. The Crested Flycatcher has not
consented to live very near to us. It may be
that he prefers to leave this hunting ground to
his cousins, of whom there are many, or it may
be that his tastes are better suited in the wood
below the bank.
The boys who have the advantage of climb-
ing trees and watching the bird world in the
early morning from some high look-out point
in the top of an elm or maple, say that a pair
of Crested Flycatchers arrived at the orchard
one morning in the spring and appeared much
interested in a nest box on the sunny side of an
elm, but before they decided to locate they
quarrelled with their domineering cousins,
the Kingbirds, already in possession of the
bank, and departed straightway to the woods.
The nest box was afterwards appropriated
by a pair of Wrens that had failed to find an
[51]
E
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
unoccupied wren house. The Wrens, appre-
ciative of any attention, are increasing so
rapidly where nest boxes are supplied, that one
is not always ready to accommodate the num-
ber that arrive. Fortunately, of all the birds
that nest in boxes, the Wrens are the easiest to
please, and will accept almost any sort of a
house. Though the Wrens are later comers
than many birds, they claim the old nesting
places with the most joyful outbursts of song.
Probably it was the song of the Wren that gave
origin to the stanza sung in Ireland by peasant
lads the morning after Christmas, as they went
from house to house carrying the branch of an
evergreen tree on which was perched a little
bird.
“The wren, the wren, the king of all birds.
St. Stephen’s day he was caught in the furze.
Although he is small, his family is great.
Get up, young ladies, and give us a treat.”
An authority on birds, who recently visited
the Blue Mountain district of the Georgian
Bay, remarked that the Bluebirds were more
numerous here than in many other parts. Had
his visit been made some years ago he would
have found more Bluebirds than we have now.
[52]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
If they are more numerous in this district than
in other parts they must have decreased uni-
versally, and it is quite time this was given
serious consideration. Bluebird houses have
been placed in many gardens by bird en-
thusiasts, but something more should be done
on the farms for such useful and beautiful
birds. '■
As the Bluebirds are naturally shy they will
seek nesting places first in the country. But
though we have vast stretches of farm land, a
safe and suitable nesting place has not been so
easy to find within the last few years, when
clumps of trees and bits of swamp and bush
have been disappearing so rapidly. Time was
when there was scarcely a farm without a few
acres of some sort of bush and swamp, and
rotten cedar stumps or hollow trees could be
found almost anywhere. Moreover there were
rail fences then, a great boon to birds that nest
in a hole, for they are sure to find a hollow rail
somewhere, and the long grass or bushes in the
fence corners made excellent cover for the
young.
Now it is not only the bush and swamp that
has gone, but picturesque rail fences are also
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
disappearing and stiff wire ones are taking their
places. True these have posts, but they are too
new to have holes and sometimes they are
painted, and newness and paint are foreign to
the feathered tribe.
All this has forced the Bluebirds nearer the
orchard and house, where they have to be satis-
fied with any sort of a home they can find. Sel-
dom can they get one where they are safe from
cats, and always they are in danger from red
squirrels. Then, if the nest happens to be near
the buildings, they will have the European
Sparrows to torment them.
Nothing at Peasemarsh has given more
pleasure — or profit — than the Bluebird houses.
Nothing adds more to the beauty of the
grounds than the bits of sky blue flitting here
and there or resting on the gate posts. No birds
are of more benefit to agriculture. Those that
have nested here for several summers lose much
of their shyness and let us know all the secrets
of their housekeeping. It was some time be-
fore they became accustomed to the camera,
however, and it was not until they had babies
to feed and had to get back and forth from their
house in spite of that new, silent terror beside
[ 54 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
it, that a picture could be taken. Photograph-
ing them gave an excellent opportunity for ob-
serving their habits. Their house was on a
huge elm just at the edge of the barnyard.
Under it were a few big stones, and the old
gateway through which sheep and cows and
the pony and old horse passed to and from the
pasture. To one side was the old pear orchard
and a stretch of uncut grass leading to the
apple orchard. Back and forth the Bluebirds
flitted, sometimes down the old lane, some-
times through the orchard, and sometimes far
back across the pasture to the spring and the
bush at the foot of the hill. When taking
their longest journeys they would be from fif-
teen to twenty minutes in returning. Occa-
sionally they would meet and greet one another
at the nest, at other times one would come and
go again before the other returned. Once,
when the camera grew alarmingly near, the
mother bird was the first to come. She flew
i
to a branch near by and looked at it from all
directions. She was afraid to venture past it
to the nest box opening. Holding firmly to the
beetle in her beak she waited. The father bird
came with a very long worm and they con-
[55]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
suited together. Then, although it was the
mother bird’s turn, he flew nearer and nearer
the nest box until, with one brave dash,
he gained the opening and darted in. He fed
his open-mouthed offspring, performed his
housekeeping duty, cleaning the nest since his
last visit, and returned to his timid mate, flap-
ping his wings in triumph. As we watched he
tried to take the beetle from her beak to carry
it in for her, but she turned her head away,
scorning his offer. No, she intended to do her
own dangerous work. Trembling, she flitted
nearer and nearer. The babies twittered,
knowing that she was near, though she made
no sound. Again she flitted nearer, till with
one bold dash she entered. Her mate waited
to see her safely out, though he was by this
time due to be back with another worm. She
came in a moment, flying straight to him for
his approval. They embraced each other, and
side by side they flew away for more insects,
two bits of clearest blue, passing across the old
barn yard lane to the field beyond.
A few days afterwards, Cecil, an almost con-
stant companion when among the birds, came
running in, exclaiming breathlessly, “The
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Bluebirds are out, the Bluebirds are out, where
is the camera?”
Seizing the camera we hurried out, round
the old barn, to the Bluebird tree. There were
the excited parent birds with their family of
nestlings out of doors for the first time and try-
ing their wings. No wonder they were excited.
Now the young ones not only had to be fed,
but kept out of the hundreds of dangers that
beset their way. Moreover, all their education
had to be given them, and a bird’s education
means not only advantages, but their very life.
One little bird had flown down to the middle of
the big stone under the tree, and here we
photographed it as it stood looking with won-
dering eyes at the world about it. The day was
cloudy and the little grey creature did not show
up very well on the big grey stone. Bluebirds,
like other bright plumaged birds, do not get
their coloring until they are older and stronger
and better able to avoid dangers. Possibly
alighting on the stone, which it so perfectly
matched, that it was hard to distinguish it, was
the result of its first lesson.
After taking the photograph we wished the
Bluebirds luck with their family and left them.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
It was more than a casual wish, for if the
family lived to grow up and come back another
year it would mean much to the farm. The
number of insects less we should have to con-
tend with would run into millions and billions.
The Bluebird belongs to the Thrush family,
but as the other members of the family do not
nest in hollow trees they are mentioned in a
later chapter.
[58]
CHAPTER VII
THRUSHES, THRASHERS, WAXWINGS, KINGLETS,
WARBLERS, VIREOS
THE birds that nest in holes in trees and
can be accommodated with a nest box
form a very small proportion of the
feathered population. Some of the most valu-
able birds build their nests high in the tree
tops, some on horizontal limbs, some on firm
crotches, some very near the ground, others on
the ground. Probably the Robins are the most
adaptable, placing their nests on many differ-
ent sorts of branch formations and on ledges
at different heights from the ground. Last
summer one pair nested high up in a willow
tree by the barn, another in a maple, another
in the hawthorn bush, and another pair on a
ledge in the stone wall, while several pairs were
in the orchard making their nests in the shel-
tered nooks formed where suckers had grown
out from limbs that had been cut back in
pruning.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Bird families that are closely related are
said to belong to the same order. The Robin
belongs to a family in a large order of birds
in which there are many families. But the
Thrush family, to which it belongs, is one of
the most valuable. It is also one of the most
musical, for the Thrushes, unlike their brother
the Robin, are renowned for their wonderful
voices. It was of a member of this family that
the poet wrote, “I hope to hear before I go the
field note of the Veery.”
Besides the Veery, sometimes called Wil-
son’s Thrush, we have the shy Wood Thrush,
the Grey-cheeked Thrush, the Olive-backed
Thrush and the Hermit Thrush. These all
nest in trees or bushes near the ground, but the
Hermit Thrush sometimes nests on the ground.
Early in May the Thrushes arrive from the
south, preferring to nest in secluded swampy
woods, where their songs are heard all through
the early part of the summer. By August the
Wood Thrush and the Veery are silent, and
without farewell they soon flit away to the
south. In nesting season the Hermit Thrush
has a very sweet call note, much like the first
note of its song, and if you can come near them
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
unobserved you may hear this sweet call to the
mate on the nest. Some members of the
Thrush family are rare here, and being so shy
and retiring they are easily alarmed. As in-
sect destroyers they are very valuable, their
food consisting largely of caterpillars when
small, and the grubs found on the ground or
just under the earth. Unfortunately none of
these Thrushes are at all numerous. They are
going with the clearing away of the woods,
their cool and quiet nesting places.
The remaining members of the family, the
Robin and the Bluebird, are not so retiring.
The Bluebird, the Thrush that nests in hollow
trees, was mentioned in the chapter on birds
that nest in that way. Of all the Thrush family
the Robin is the best known, the old stand-
by. Not easily alarmed and able to endure the
cold of early spring, it never fails to come, with
its bright breast and its cheery note, to our
very door announcing the coming of spring.
Though not a song bird, it is so cheerful and
familiar that we do not miss the music. What
would a summer be without the bright “red
breasts” hopping about on the short grass of
the lawn, stopping now and then to dig out a
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
luckless worm or calling “cheer up, cheer up,
cheer up” from the leafy tree tops. Besides, it
is one of our most useful birds, devouring great
quantities of army worms, cut worms, wire
worms and injurious bugs and beetles, and
coming to our gardens and our orchards for
them. The poor Robin, so often blamed for
stealing cherries, has paid in advance and paid
many times over for all he takes.
MOCKING BIRD FAMILY
This is a family closely related to the
Thrushes and consisting of only three mem-
bers, the Mocking Bird, the Brown Thrasher
and the Catbird, all slender, long-tailed birds
and beautiful singers. The Mocking Bird
lives only in the south, the other two are with
us every year. The Thrasher is sometimes
called the Brown Thrush, although it does not
belong to the Thrush family. This beautiful
chestnut-brown, long-tailed bird with the
spotted breast, is very familiar in our orchards
and the tree clumps. Early in the morning and
in the evening it sings its beautiful song in the
tree tops somewhere near its nest, which is
always carefully hidden on the ground or near
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the ground. Sometimes in the spring when the
foliage is late in coming out it will resort to
the ground and hop about in search of insects,
a dot of rich, warm brown on the cold green.
Our earliest memory of the Catbird was one
evening in June when the sweetest of bird songs
was poured forth from a small evergreen at the
corner of the verandah. We peeped out very
carefully lest we should alarm the singer, and
there was a satiny, slate-colored bird singing
a song sweeter and more varied than that of
its fine-voiced brother, the Thrasher. Finish-
ing its song it flew away to the shrubbery,
where was its nest, and we heard its cat-like
meuw, the note which has given it its name.
There are still many who have not listened for
its singing and do not know it has any note be-
sides its cat call. They have missed much, for
it is one of the finest bird singers we have.
This year the Catbirds were our nearest
neighbors. They arrived upon the lawn early
in May and the barberry hedge seemed to take
their fancy from the very first. They made no
rash decisions, however, but inspected every
available bush and tree with great care, and
after each decision they returned to the hedge.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Their greatest difficulty seemed to be to decide
in which particular part of the hedge to locate.
They spent a whole afternoon flitting in and
out of it. They examined it on the south side
of the house and they examined it on the north
side of the house. The north side, where the
branches of an old apple tree hung protectingly
over it, seemed to be their choice when evening
came. In the cold, grey dawn of the early
morning we knew for a certainty that they had
decided to remain, for a song of exquisite
sweetness came through the open window; it
was the home song of the most accomplished
musician of the sanctuary, and the memory of
it will remain long after the nesting birds have
gone.
Both the Thrasher and the Catbird live en-
tirely on insects, especially caterpillars and
beetles, during the early part of the season, and
so are very valuable in the garden. When the
elderberries ripen they feed on these, and
bushes of elderberries will always attract them.
WAXWINGS
The Waxwing belongs to another family of
this order of birds. There are two species, but
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the Cedar Waxwing, or cherry bird, is the only
one to nest here. That it is a beautiful bird is
about all that is usually said of the Cedar Wax-
wing, for though it destroys some insects, it is
not considered so valuable as many other
birds. As it has the habit of visiting gardens
and orchards in small flocks when cherries and
berries are ripe, one wonders if they have de-
voured insects enough to pay their board while
in the orchards. It has a good trait, however,
which is frequently overlooked. It is an ex-
pert fly catcher, sometimes seeming almost to
turn somersaults in the air after them.
KINGLETS
To the same order but to a different family
belong the little Kinglets, Ruby-crowned and
Golden-crowned, and the little Grey-blue
Gnatcatcher that seldom comes so far north.
The Kinglets nest in low trees, but usually
farther north, so they are only visitors here.
In the early spring they make their way north-
ward, stopping on the way to examine our
orchards and woods in search of tiny insects
and insect eggs. They are the means of pre-
venting millions of these from developing and
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
injuring the trees. In the autumn we have
another visit from them when on their way
south. Though some of the Golden-crowns
remain in sheltered evergreens in southern
Ontario all winter, they have not done so here.
WARBLERS
Over twenty members of the large Warbler
family have watched over our trees. Some of
these make only fleeting visits, usually nesting
in more southern parts of the Province. Some
others, like the Kinglets, nest farther north and
stop only while on their way back and forth
from their summer home to their winter home.
But fully a dozen different members of the
family have nested with us. Of these the Green
and Yellow is one of the most numerous.
Most of the Warblers nest in low bushes near
the ground. Last summer the boys who live
below the hill watched a nest of little Green
and Yellow Warblers in a lilac bush that grew
beside their gate. The fifth egg was the last
to hatch and that baby was small and weak,
and a few days after it died. The old birds
pulled it out of the nest and let it drop down
among the leaves on the ground at the root
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
of the lilac. That was the bird’s funeral. But
four were left to be fed, with the result that the
lilac and all the bushes and trees near by were
free from the tiny insects that the Warblers
live upon.
Another very common Warbler is the Black
and White Warbler. Usually it nests on the
ground at the foot of a decaying tree or stump.
The Black-throated Green Warbler is also
quite common and is frequently seen among
our trees in the early spring. The American
Redstart, known by the red orange on the
centre part of the wings, is also here, and
makes its nest on the crotch of a low tree. Last
year they nested near the lake shore road;
though we never found the nest we saw the
Redstart roosting on the telephone wires al-
most every time we passed by in nesting sea-
son, and one bright morning the family of four
little Redstarts were all there in a row.
The Oven Bird belongs to the Warbler
family, taking its name because its nest is
shaped something like an oven. Built on the
ground, it is covered over and has an entrance
at one side like the door of an oven. There is
also a Mourning Warbler and a Pine Warbler
[67]
F
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
that nests in the pine trees, usually farther
south. Our own Canadian Warbler is one of
the most beautiful, its favorite nesting place
is on a bank among the roots of old trees or
stumps.
The Warblers are most useful birds among
the trees. As so many of the insects that they
devour are small and undeveloped, they are
not always given full credit for the good they
do. They are a family that guard the trees from
the ground to the very tip. Some search for
insects among the fallen leaves ; others examine
the bark of the trunk and limbs for tiny insects
that larger birds have missed; others go from
branch to branch clearing the leaves of insects ;
others catch insects that are flying about the
trees. One of the greatest values of these birds
is their habit of devouring newly hatched
caterpillars and of feeding the larvae of these
caterpillars to their young. Since the cater-
pillars are the greatest leaf destroyers we have,
and as trees cannot breathe without their
leaves, the Warblers have a large share in sav-
ing them for us.
We have also watched these tiny birds
gathering leaf eating beetles and bark beetles.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Of the bark beetles one ornithologist says:
“These beetles’ eggs are soon deposited and
the resulting larvae bore away among the vital
tissue of the tree along the inner surface of the
bark. If their increase is not checked a year
or two of their work is sufficient to destroy the
noblest tree of the forest. The Warblers, how-
ever, attack these borers as they mature and
emerge from their burrows. In an orchard
they are invaluable. The Black and White
Warbler, which is so often seen on the tree
trunks in the summer, is the greatest destroyer
of borers, though others also eat them.”
VIREOS
Another family not unlike the Warblers are
the Vireos. The family, however, is much
smaller, consisting of only six members. Only
three of these have ever been seen here, though
the others may appear in other parts. Like the
Warblers they work chiefly among the leaves
and branches of the trees. They are constant
singers and always hunting for food, for their
appetites seem insatiable. We have frequently
watched a Vireo in a willow tree by the house
catch and devour a caterpillar without losing a
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
note of its song. Their nests are shaped like
little cups and fastened to a twig or the end of
a forked branch in a low tree. The nest in the
illustration was found in a pear tree by the
boys who, when picking pears, were attracted
to it by the narrow strips of birch bark so fan-
tastically woven in it. Surely they are artists
to have designed such a home.
[70]
CHAPTER VIII
FLYCATCHER FAMILY, PRAIRIE HORNED LARK,
SCARLET TANAGER
AS early as the middle of March we hear
the familiar “Phoebe, phoebe,” shrill,
loud and persistent, and we know that
the first member of the Flycatcher family has
arrived. The others follow in due course.
The Wood Peewee, daintier and smaller than
Phoebe, never fails to appear. Occasionally
Least’s Flycatcher, still smaller, consents to
come. Usually we have the Crested Fly-
catcher at various places on the farm, but as
they nest in hollow trees they were mentioned
in the chapter on birds that nest in that way.
There are always numerous pairs of King-
birds.
Phoebe, however, is an old standby, and the
only one of the family that comes to our build-
ings to nest. For many years one pair have
lived just over the front door, building their
nest in a notch of one of the stones in the wall
under the verandah roof. Once in three or four
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
years they would pull the nest down and re-
build it, other years they would simply re-line
it or add a little fresh moss to the outside.
Other pairs of Phoebes nest about the sheds,
and down under the little railway bridge over
the stream flowing from the bush a Phoebe’s
nest has been built ever since we can remember,
the roar of the passing trains disturbing them
not at all. The favorite look-out point of those
that nest under the verandah is the telephone
wire outside the window, from which they dart
after every winged insect they see. Their pe-
culiar manner of jerking the tail has given
them the name “Wag Tail” among the chil-
dren.
The Wood Peewee nests down on the
orchard bank among the trees, and usually
watches for its breakfast from the end of some
dead limb. It is very like its cousin, Phoebe,
but easily distinguished from it by its smaller
size and the white bars on its wings, and also
because it does not “wag” its tail. Its call,
“Pee-a-wee, pee-a-wee,” is slower and more
musical than that of the Phoebe.
Least’s Flycatcher, or Chebec, as it is some-
times called, is smaller than the Wood Peewee
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
and not so numerous here. It accompanies its
singing, which sounds not unlike its own name,
Chebec, with both a movement of the tail and
the head. It has also white bars on the wings.
Our largest member of the family is the
Kingbird, and fortunately a very common resi-
dent. The Kingbirds are easily distinguished
by the white fringe at the end of the tail, but
if this fails to identify them watch for a pair of
dark-colored, light-breasted birds that dare to
chase a bird-nesting Crow out of the orchard,
frequently flying above him and giving him
such jabs with their beaks that he is glad to
squawk his promise to stay away henceforth.
Being good sized birds they build rather
bulky nests ten feet or more from the ground
in some bush or tree. They are adepts in de-
fending themselves, and woe betide any Crow
or Blackbird that comes too near. They are
the guardians of the bank here, for by defend-
ing themselves they are protecting all smaller
birds that nest anywhere near.
The value of the Flycatcher family is very
great. As the name implies, they live princi-
pally on winged insects and do not touch culti-
vated fruit, though sometimes in the early
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
spring the Kingbird will be driven to eat the
berries of the sumach.
THE LARK
We have but one member of the Lark family,
the prairie Horned Lark. One day in March,
driving along a country road we saw a group
of them on the roadway just ahead. They
were very easy to distinguish, for their two
little horns are especially noticeable when they
are pecking for food on the ground. Flocks are
sometimes seen in February and March,
doubtless on their way farther north, though
they have been known to nest here. They
make their nests on the ground in the open
fields. Some of these birds are said to spend
the entire winter in the southern part of
Ontario and the northern part of the United
States.
THE SCARLET TANAGER
If the Tanager family is a small one, its sole
member known here is one of our most bril-
liant birds. The Scarlet Tanager is easily re-
cognized by its beautiful scarlet plumage and
contrasting wings and tail of black. In a
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
season when the foliage is late in coming out
he is very noticeable among the dull branches.
The Tanager’s nest is built on a horizontal limb
of a tree, usually in some secluded spot. Last
spring a pair came almost to the door, appar-
ently looking for nesting material, but we could
not induce them to stay and nest there. Later
we found that they had gone to the larger trees
below the bank.
Beside the brilliant Tanager his mate looks
very plain in her coloring of olive green and
brown and greenish yellow. One of nature’s
means of protecting the nests of bright plum-
aged birds is to clothe the mother bird in quiet
shades. If she were bright she would attract
attention to the nest, but her coloring blends
with the trees and the material of the nest.
When bringing out her family she escapes
notice, while the father bird, with his bright
plumage, can draw attention away from the
nest by simply flying in the other direction.
[75]
CHAPTER IX
THE FAMILY OF FINCHES AND SPARROWS
WITH the exception of the Warbler
family, that of Finches and Sparrows
is one of the largest. Some of this
family are our best known birds, coming in the
early spring and remaining with us until the
last migrating birds are going. Some only visit
us in the spring and fall on their way back and
forth from their nesting places farther north.
Others spend their winters with us and make
the Arctic regions their summer home. The
birds of this family are both insect eating and
seed eating. Though they devour the seeds of
many noxious weeds they do not touch culti-
vated grain and are most useful on the farms.
The only objectionable Sparrow we have is the
European species.
Of our native Sparrows, the little Chipping
Sparrow, noticeable among the others by its
brownish mahogany head, is the most familiar.
These little birds are always very tame, and, if
there are not too many European Sparrows,
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
come hopping about the door for crumbs.
Usually they make their nests in low trees and
bushes, sometimes in the vines that grow about
the porch. There is never a country home
without a Chipping Sparrow’s nest somewhere
about. These trusting little birds come very
close to us for protection, for they are so often
unfortunate, their low nests being reached by
cats or squirrels, or usurped by European Spar-
rows. Last year a pair here nested in the bar-
berry hedge beside the stone wall, bringing out
a very interesting family of four, and their first
flight was from the nest to the table in the
porch.
The Song Sparrow is a bird that would per-
haps be more missed than any other should we
have a spring without it. It is one of the
earliest sweet singers, and its song seems more
like sacred music than that of any other bird.
Song Sparrows are always at Peasemarsh for
Easter Sunday, and what sweeter Easter music
than theirs could we have? Sometimes they
arrive early in March and sing all through the
cold, raw days while we wait the real coming of
spring. Like “Chippie,” they will come to the
door for crumbs and grow very tame. One
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
late, cold spring when the foliage was much
delayed, our little Song Sparrow would creep
into the Barberry hedge for shelter at night.
On one occasion a light suddenly appearing in
the window near by it apparently took it for
the sunrise and sang its little song, though
about twelve o’clock on a cold, dark April
night.
The poor Song Sparrow, nesting in tall grass
or low shrubs, frequently comes to grief
through prowling cats, or has its nest pulled to
pieces by scythe or mower. A Song Sparrow
here once made her nest in a little cluster of
thistles, and it was noticed just in time to save
it from the scythe. For the sake of the little
nestlings the thistles were left uncut. But one
thing is certain, the birds would not let all the
seeds drop.
Closely resembling the Song Sparrow is the
Vesper Sparrow, but always distinguished from
it by its white outer tail feathers, which show
plainly in flying. To some the songs of these
birds may seem much the same, but those who
listen carefully will find a great difference,
which was aptly expressed by a young musi-
cian who said, “Their voices are something
[79]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
alike, but the Vesper Sparrow does not sing the
music the Song Sparrow sings.” The nest of
the Vesper Sparrow one comes upon in most
unexpected places on the ground. The Field
Sparrows usually nest on the ground also,
though sometimes they build in low bushes.
The Grasshopper Sparrow is another very com-
mon little friend in our fields.
The Sparrows that nest farther north are al-
ways welcome guests. We cannot call them
tenants, because they simply visit us as they
pass between their summer and winter homes.
We watch eagerly for the coming of the White
Throated, the White Crowned and the Fox
Sparrows. The White Throats and White
Crowns are easily distinguished, as their names
are descriptive, and so white are their crowns
and their throats that there is no mistaking
them. In some seasons they remain much
longer than others. When they stay for several
weeks we are likely to have a late, cold spring,
this doubtless being the reason why they are
in no hurry to pass on to their nesting places.
Throwing out crumbs will bring them to the
door, where they can be watched to great ad-
vantage. The Fox Sparrow, when with us, is
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
always much shyer. But though he does not
come so near, his voice reaches us. When on
sunny April mornings he mounts to the tree
tops and pours forth his glorious notes, he fills
the air with music. Unfortunately his stay is
frequently shorter than that of the other two.
Upon their return visit, about the middle of
September, these Sparrows have their families
with them and make quite an extended stay,
hunting out our weed patches and devouring
great quantities of seeds.
Usually they have gone their way by the
time their cousins, the Tree Sparrows, come
from the north to take a final look at our weed
patches and glean what the others have left,
for the Tree Sparrows come with the Snow
Birds and tell us that winter is on the way.
Their names did not come from their manner
of nesting, for they nest on the ground or very
near the ground, and their nesting places are
many hundreds of miles north, in Labrador
and near the Hudson’s Bay.
FINCHES
Of all the Finches the Goldfinch, wild Can-
ary some people call it, is the best known here.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
With their clear, yellow coloring and black
wings and tail they are very beautiful birds.
High up in a fork of a branch of a maple tree
just outside the window a pair made their cup
shaped nest last year. The tall maples are
their favorite nesting places. Only rarely are
their nests found in low bushes, but frequently
they nest in a tall apple hedge here, and, flying
in and out against the dense green, they look
like rare gold. They are among our most per-
sistent seed eaters, and, when a pair alight on
a tall thistle, so intent will they be on getting
the seeds that one can come very close to them.
They are late in beginning their housekeeping,
flitting irresponsibly about when other birds
are searching their nesting material, and only
beginning to build when many birds have al-
ready nestlings to feed.
Curiously enough the Purple Finch is dis-
tinguished by its crimson color, very vivid on
its head and breast. The wings and tail, how-
ever, are a dull, brownish shade. The mate is
dull grey brown, her breast white but well
streaked with brown. It would be very hard
to find her while on her nest or guarding her
little ones, so like the nest and the branches
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
does she appear. The nest is usually in a low
evergreen or unpruned apple tree. One won-
ders if the Purple Finches were named after
the eggs, which are spotted with a dull shade,
frequently purplish.
One cold, bright May day we saw an Indigo
Finch, or Indigo Bunting, the bird with the
blue body and rusty black wings, perched
upon the top rail of the fence surveying the
thicket just inside the orchard which we had
left for the birds. For some time he remained
perched thus. The wildness of the spot and
the many sprouts and low bushes must have
looked good to him, for he flew over to it and
disappeared among the opening foliage.
Though we watched for him we did not see
him again and feared he had thought unfavor-
ably of our bird home. But a few weeks after
we saw grey and brown Mrs. Blue Finch
gathering small sticks and straws and flying
with them to the thicket. Perhaps he had
chosen a bush to nest in that day and gone in
search of his wife. In any case they went to
housekeeping there. Low bushes in sheltered
spots are favorite homes with them, as they
nest only one or two feet from the ground.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
There will be less dandelions in the lawn
and less thistles in the fence corners if the
Finches are near by to devour the seeds.
It is interesting to notice how the habits of
bright plumaged birds keep them where they
are least conspicuous. The Indigo Bunting
generally sings on the top of a bush or tree
where his vivid blue coloring blends with the
background of the sky.
Another of the Finches is the Pine Finch
or Pine Siskin, a northern Finch that loves the
pine woods. It is very fond of the seeds of
birch, or pine, or spruce, and an abundance of
these trees may attract it. Though it nests
farther north it sometimes visits us in small
flocks in the fall.
SNOW BIRDS
To this family also belong the Juncos and
the Snow Buntings, Snow Birds or Snow
Flakes they are sometimes called, because they
have so much white that in flocks they look
like huge snow flakes.
In the autumn the Juncos appear here in
large flocks. One October morning they
simply surrounded the house, perching every-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
where about, on the porch, on the window
ledges, on the shutters, on the vines over the
windows, their white beaks showing very
white indeed against their taupe-grey, satiny
feathers. They were returning, with their
families, from their nesting places in the moun-
tains or the spruce woods. The Juncos and the
Snow Buntings visit the weed patches that rise
above the snow of early winter. They come
again in the spring and search out what they
have missed in the autumn. True to their
name the Snow Buntings nest within the
Arctic circle, the land of snow and ice.
REDPOLLS AND LONGSPURS
One cold, bright day about the end of Febru-
ary sweet musical twittering brought us to the
window, and there among the trees was a large
flock of Redpolls, the first we had seen that
winter, which had been uncommonly cold.
They seemed quite tame, evidently having been
attracted by the birch and cedar trees among
which they were dining, the seeds in the cat-
kins of the birch being a favorite food. Creep-
ing quite close we examined the flock carefully
through an opera glass. Some had very crim-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
son crowns and beautiful red rose breasts.
Some had only dull red crowns and no rose
on the streaked breasts. Others had no rose
at all and looked very like other little Spar-
rows. So we knew they were mother and
father Redpolls and young Redpolls in all their
distinguishing feathers.
The Redpoll is never a regular winter visitor,
and it was some time since we had seen so large
a flock. The visit, however, was but a fleeting
one. The next day they were gone. Where
had they come from and where were they going,
those tiny, sweet-voiced travellers in that
twenty below zero atmosphere?
The Longspur’s home is in the far north. If
he should call at the sanctuary it would be a
surprise, for he has never led us to expect him.
We are told that he is a very sweet singer when
at his nesting place on the arctic coast. Nature
gave rare music to those lonely places when
she sent the Longspur to rear his family there.
CROSSBILLS AND GROSBEAKS
Two other members of the family are irre-
gular winter visitors. So beautiful are they
that we try to cater to their tastes by way of
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
food, hoping to induce them to come as regu-
larly as the Snow Birds. These are the Cross-
bills and the Grosbeaks. The Rosebreasted
Grosbeaks, however, will nest here if they find
a suitable place. They are shy, retiring birds
until they find that they are among friends who
will protect them. With their black heads and
throats, rich, dark red breasts and a little red
on the wings and the other parts black and
white, they make the most striking appearance
of all the Grosbeaks. The real value of this
bird, an appetite for potato beetles, should be
better known. The Pine Grosbeak nests in the
far north.
To look at the Crossbill’s beak one would
wonder how they manage to eat. But they
manage very well indeed, that is what their
cross bills are for. Cone-bearing evergreens,
such as hemlocks, spruces and pines always
attract them. With their cross bills they are
very expert in gathering the seeds. Their nests
are usually found in the cone-bearing trees.
The Red Crossbill is a rich vermilion red,
but Mrs. Red Crossbill is grey, with a little
greenish yellow on her breast. The White
Winged Crossbill is more of a rose shade, but
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
with white wing bars, while his wife is grey,
with some greenish yellow, and has also the
white wing bars. The bright coloring of these
birds looks very rich and warm against the
snow and green of a late fall landscape.
It is most unfortunate that the spruce and
pine groves are disappearing, thus lessening
the visits of these attractively plumaged birds.
TO WHITT TO WHEE
We have seen that this family ranges from
the plainest little sparrow to some of the most
beautiful birds. There is one more member, a
very handsome bird, To Whitt To Whee.
To Whitt To Whee comes early, sometimes
arriving with the first little grey Sparrows.
The first time we noticed him close to the house
we heard something scratching like a hen
among the dead leaves under the maple and
supposed it was one of the hens, until we heard
a hoarse To Whee and knew that To Whitt
To Whee was there and that he had no cold,
that hoarse To Whee or Chi Whee was just
his natural voice. He kept on scratching and
uttering his hoarse To Whee at intervals, as
if he had no other means of expression, so al-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
though we knew of his song, it was a surprise
when he mounted a gate post and sang his
sweet, strong notes. One day he was scratch-
ing and pecking so intently on the lawn that
he paid no attention to us as we sat watching,
and came within a few feet of us.
The children call him the bird with the white
apron, and, indeed, with his glossy black head
and throat and wings and rich chestnut sides,
the white breast does look like an apron donned
to protect his handsome dress. To Whee’s wife
is light brown where he is black, the other
feathers the same as his, so she is not easily
seen when on the nest, which is usually on the
ground beside a stump or fallen log or brush
heap.
One should not rake up the dead leaves too
early if one wishes to attract To Whee, who
likes to scratch among them for his dinner of
insects.
[89]
1. The weaving of the Oriole that has withstood the winter’s storms.
(Page 92.)
2. The Yireo’s nest: note loops of birch bark. (Page 67.)
CHAPTER X
MEADOWBIRD, BOBOLINK, ORIOLE, BLACKBIRD,
COWBIRD
TO another family belong our valuable
Meadowlarks and Bobolinks that build
their nests upon the ground, the bril-
liant Orioles that hang their nests from the
branches in the tall elms, the Redwinged
Blackbirds and their undesirable relatives, the
Crow Blackbirds that do so much bird nesting,
and the Cowbirds with their well known habit.
The Meadowlark is one of the early birds
to arrive. From March until November it
is working for the farmer. The number of
insects that one pair alone will dispose of in
that time would make serious ravages in the
crops. Those who are advocating greater pro-
duction should not forget the part of the
Meadowlark. Some authorities on birds tell
us that the young Meadowlarks are ready to
leave the nest before the hay is cut, but this
does not always happen, especially in the
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
alfalfa fields. Moreover some Meadowlarks
are often behind the others in bringing out their
families. This was the case on the farm last
summer, when down in the meadow young
Meadowlarks were big enough to fly about
hunting their own food, but up in the clover
field, which the men would be cutting any day,
we had reason to believe was a Meadowlark’s
nest that would be in serious danger. Perhaps
this pair of Meadowlarks had come to grief
with their first nest and making a fresh start
had delayed them until haying-time. So we
attempted to locate the spot where their little
ones were and protect it from rake and mower.
To do this sounded easy, but Meadowlarks are
very wise and wonderful. Were they not so
they would have become extinct long ago.
Standing very still among the tall clover we
saw the Meadowlark alight so near that we
could hear the young when she went to feed
them. Directly the bird flew up, we kept our
eyes on the particular clump of tall grass from
which she emerged and walked quickly to the
spot. Not a sign of Meadowlark’s nest ! Had
we mistaken the particular spot? Walking a
little way off we watched again. But the
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Meadowlark dipped in at a moment our eyes
were raised to look at a Bobolink singing near
by. Again we were sure we heard the little
ones and that the Meadowlark flew out from
the same spot, and we examined every inch of
the ground about there, but found no nest.
And all the time the old birds circled anxiously
about, confirming our belief that the nest wras
somewhere near. Our searching had aroused
their suspicions and they tried to lead us away
by dipping down at another place. The
Meadowlarks in the lower field would not have
minded our presence in the slightest, but this
was evidently a pair that had not nested here
before.
Presently, convinced that we had not found
their little ones they went back where the hay
had been cut, short grass being their best hunt-
ing ground. Partly hidden by the grass we sat
down near the spot where we thought they had
their nest, and waited. It was a long wait.
The resourceful boy explained it by saying that
worms might be getting scarce. At last, how-
ever, the birds came flying over towards us
with food in their beaks. One circled up to
the rail fence and alighted on the highest post.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
The other came nearer and alighted cautiously
on the grass. The boy jumped up at once to
see just where. Immediately the one on the
post called to the other. It flew up, and to-
gether they went back to the short grass and
they would not come again while we were
there.
We searched again for the nest, while the
small boy decided that it was not the difficulty
in getting worms that had delayed them, but
that they had been planning how to get to the
nest without being seen, and their scheme was
that one should fly to the nest while the other
watched from the high post, and, if we were
still there, call to it to come back.
Our search was in vain. So carefully was
the nest concealed that surely it would be safe
from the ravages of crows and blackbirds.
Some days afterwards we found the spot low
on the ground and domed over. The young
birds had flown then. So one nest was safe, a
thing which every year is becoming more un-
usual, for no bird is beset by greater dangers.
Cats, red squirrels, crows and weasels all prey
upon the Meadowlarks and, , nesting in the
meadows as they do, they would seldom rear
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
their families had they not learned to conceal
their nests so cleverly.
BOBOLINK
One cannot think of the Meadowlark with-
out being reminded of his cousin, the Bobolink,
for they live in the same alfalfa fields and
roost on the same old fence rails and the same
old barnyard gate-posts. We have seen a
Meadowlark on one gate-post and a Bobolink
on the other, each from that look-out point
guarding his mate on the nest on the ground in
the alfalfa. At this season Bobolink is dressed
in his most beautiful plumage, his head, breast
and wings look like jet-black satin and his
back like richest brocade. No birds sing more
sweetly to their mates on the nest than the
Bobolinks. It is usually some time early in
July before their young are ready to leave the
nest, and, when nesting in alfalfa, the first crop
of which is cut before that, their nests, like
those of the Meadowlarks, often come to grief.
By this time Bobolink ceases to sing and
changes his beautiful plumage for a dress very
like that of his plain brown mate. His real
work has begun. He has a family to feed and
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
to teach to avoid the dangers that beset them,
and their perils are many, for all the enemies
of the Meadowlarks are the Bobolinks’ enemies
too.
The young Bobolinks also encounter other
dangers than those from the agricultural im-
plements, prowling cats and bird-nesting
Crows and skunks and weasels. In the rice-
growing states, when migrating, they are
blamed for helping themselves freely to the
crop and are often shot. Some ornithologists
assert that the Blackbird does more harm than
the Bobolink. If this be the case, it is to be
hoped it may soon be thoroughly understood
and so useful and beautiful a bird as the Bobo-
link spared to return to us.
THE ORIOLE
While Meadowlarks and Bobolinks nest on
the ground their cousins, the Orioles, build
their nests on the high-drooping branches of
the tall elms. Wonderful architects they are to
weave those hanging nests and fasten them so
securely, from the four corners, to the branches
that droop protectingly over them.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
It is wonderful how these fragile looking
structures withstand the winds and storms of
winter and still retain their shape. Not far
from the house are two elm trees just a few
rods apart. In one is an Oriole nest of last
year. In the other is a nest a pair of Orioles
have just completed. So strongly made are
those hanging structures, that, if there is any
difference in the appearance of the old and the
new, it would take the practised eye of the birds
to detect it. What could reflect more credit
upon the builders ? We have never known the
Orioles to occupy the same nest a second
season, though they may build again in the
same tree.
Only two kinds of Orioles are known here;
one, the most brilliant, easily known by the
black head and wings and red-orange breast
of the male, is known as the Baltimore Oriole,
sometimes called Fire Bird or Golden Robin,
and is quite common; the other, not so bril-
liant a bird, but very beautiful when you have
a close view, with rich greenish yellow and
brown shades, is known as the Orchard Oriole,
and is very rare in our orchards so far north.
Early in May the Orioles announce their ar-
rival by their whistling song, usually coming
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
from the tops of the willows or the elms, or
among the orchard trees. Much as we have
wished to watch them weave their wonderful
nests, we have never been able to do so. They
choose a location so high and so sheltered by
the branches that all we could see were the
birds flying in with the material they had
gathered. By the middle or latter part of June,
when walking under the tree in which they have
built, we can sometimes hear the call of the
babies in the nest, which sounds like te-de-de,
te-de-de.
If the Orioles were at all numerous in any
orchard it would be comparatively free from
caterpillars, and we should have no tent cater-
pillars in our gardens, and should never need
to spray currant and gooseberry bushes. It is
one. of the birds that is important to the fruit
grower. On one occasion a person with a
small garden and one or two fruit trees bearing
their first blossoms declared the Oriole a
nuisance because it had picked some blossoms,
and hastily concluded that the Oriole should
be shot, together with other birds that had
wished to sample the blossoms. Such owners
of small gardens might consider that out in the
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
country, where birds are more numerous than
in any city garden, fruit trees blossom and
fruit forms in such large clusters that every-
one who wants a fine quality must thin them
out; so the birds do not take very many blos-
soms. They have been spending most of their
time getting insects and caterpillars. The
Oriole especially has a tremendous appetite for
tent caterpillars, often searching them out
when they have escaped the spray. Moreover
he is always watching, an advantage far above
any spray device. The birds do not tell how
many trees they have saved from destruction,
and if on rare occasions they are seen helping
themselves to a few buds, or a few cherries, it
should be remembered that if everything they
have done for the trees were recorded, it would
be more than the human owners have done.
BLACKBIRDS, COWBIRDS
Of the Blackbird, cousin of the Bobolink,
the Meadowlark and the Oriole, three kinds
are found here; the large Blackbird, known as
the Grackle or Crow Blackbird, the smaller
Blackbird, sometimes called Rusty Grackle,
and the Redwinged Blackbird. The Crow
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H
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Blackbird is one of the worst nest robbers we
have, and so we shall read of him in the chapter
on bird enemies. The smaller Blackbird nests
farther north, and is only a visitor here. The
Redwinged Blackbird is not a nest robber, but
in some ways a beneficial bird. Of late it has
not been so numerous as one might wish, prob-
ably because the marshes where it likes to nest
are being cleared and drained. It is one of the
earliest arrivals, and also has the distinction of
being one of the most dramatic of the feathered
folk. All through the early part of the season
it sings in strong, liquid notes, accompanied
by twists and turns and graceful bows.
The Cowbird, another member of this
family, is most undesirable, as it builds no nest,
but lays its eggs in the nest of another bird,
usually one smaller than itself, and pays no
more attention to it. The small owners of the
nest are forced to feed the young Cowbirds,
which usually manage to get all the food and
crowd out the little birds. The Cowbird is also
mentioned in the chapter on bird enemies.
Thus we see invaluable Meadowlarks and
Bobolinks and Orioles have some relatives of
very uncertain character.
[100]
CHAPTER XI
GOATSUCKERS, SWIFTS, HUMMINGBIRDS,
CUCKOOS, PIGEONS
THE order of birds to which belong the
families, Goatsuckers, Hummingbirds
and Swifts, is one of the most interesting
and most curious that we have in the Great
Lake region. Members of each family of the
order arrive here every spring, and all summer
we have an excellent opportunity to observe
their habits. It is evening before we hear the
Whip-poor-will in the bush below the bank, for
while the other birds sleep the Goatsuckers are
on duty, so its work is just commencing. This
bird of the night devours the night flying moths
and beetles, lessens the number of June bugs,
and sometimes on still gloomy days, has been
known to feed upon ants on the ground. It is
a bird of the woodland and the woodland
streams, though frequently it ventures out
along the edges of the farm land, and some-
times at night it can be heard among the trees
beside the house. The Whip-poor-will lays its
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
eggs upon the ground among the ferns or the
dead leaves in cool and shady retreats. The
disappearing of the woodlands is making it a
very rare bird in many places. One wonders if
still more extensive cultivation will not soon
drive it altogether from some localities.
The Whip-poor-will’s cousin, the Night
Hawk, is not so retiring, and may be heard
anywhere in country or in town when evening
draws near. It is specially attracted by
streams and rivers. Whether the peculiar
sound of its downward glide is made with the
wings or with the mouth has long been a matter
of conjecture. The huge mouth and tiny beak
by which this bird is always known are given
it for its work of gathering in the night flying
insects of the air. The eggs are deposited on
the ground, but it does not hide them so care-
fully as the Whip-poor-will, for sometimes they
have been found in the pasture fields.
Why should the Night Hawk and the Whip-
poor-will be called Goatsuckers? the children
often ask. One boy answered it by explaining
that it was because their big mouths suck in the
flies that trouble the goats and sheep and cattle
in the fields.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
The Swifts are enough like the Goatsuckers
to pass for cousins any day. But we have al-
ready read of them and their homes in our
chimneys. The Hummingbird, however, is a
very tiny relative of the Goatsucker, though it
has the same distinctive characteristic of being
constantly on the wing. Its diminutive nest is
plastered on the horizontal branch of a tree,
and is so grey and brown and green that one
may look straight at it without seeing it. Little
Rubythroat is always with us in apple blossom
time. We hope to give him a little more at-
tention, arranging to have a succession of
bloom at his disposal so that he will always
be a summer tenant.
CUCKOOS
The Cuckoos are birds whose good deeds,
opening leaves and buds bring to mind. These
slender, long-tailed birds clear the trees of a
vast number of caterpillars. We have no other
bird in the orchard that will devour the hairy
caterpillar when full grown.
Two Cuckoos come to the orchard every
spring, the yellow-billed and black-billed ;
apart from this difference they are very much
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
alike. They can be distinguished, however, by
their note, the coo-coo call of the yellow-billed
being lower and sweeter and softer than that of
the black-billed. Both are slender, long-tailed
birds with the upper parts brown, a slight olive
tinge on the back and the lower parts white.
They are fond of old orchards, especially un-
pruned orchards, and tangled thickets and
overgrown fences. As they usually nest in low
trees it is quite easy to avoid their birdlings
when spraying the orchards.
There is only one other member of the
Cuckoo order, and that is one of very little im-
portance to the farmer, the Kingfisher. He
is not much like the Cuckoo, but then when
birds belong to the same order but not to the
same family they should be called second cou-
sins, and that is a sufficiently distant relation-
ship to warrant distinct differences. We sel-
dom see him anywhere, except down by the
stream. Poor Kingfisher, his rent is always
overdue, for he spends all his time fishing and
pays no attention whatever to our injurious
insects. Still, he is a handsome, cheery tenant,
and we should not want our sanctuary to be
without him. There is this to be said in his
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
favor, he attends strictly to his own affairs and
troubles no one. Moreover, his loud note, like
a very big rattle, is a welcome sound when in
early spring it comes over the fields while the
winds are still blowing off the ice.
PIGEONS
i
To another order belong the Pigeons. The
Mourning Dove is all we have now. Years
ago the beautiful Passenger Pigeon came and
went in great flocks. That day is passed. The
Passenger Pigeon is no more, and very rare is
his shy cousin the Mourning Dove. It may be
that Mourning Doves are decreasing in num-
bers because they cannot find the proper nest-
ing places, although they have never been very
particular where they lay their two white eggs.
Nests have been found in old grape vines, on
old stumps, on the top rails of old fences, or
in low trees. So exposed have these locations
been that their eggs have been known to have
been blown off by the wind or the swaying of
the branches, and for the same reason their
babies sometimes come to grief. Such careless
homemakers and parents of such small families
are not likely to increase their numbers rapidly,
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
and the fact that they nest several times a
season is the only thing that saves them.
Even though they have so wide a choice in
nesting sites it is often impossible to find a safe
location. For several years they had nested
here about an old, overgrown, moss-covered
shed. One spring a very tidy member of the
family declared that the overgrown rubbish of
locust sprouts, wild plums, honeysuckle and
sumacs should be cleared away, the shed re-
paired and Norway spruce planted where the
sprouts had grown. So this was done, but alas,
for our Mourning Doves ! When they return-
ed, the over-grown shed was no more and we
have never since been able to find their nest.
The Mourning Dove is interesting here be-
cause it is now the only Wild Pigeon. It is use-
ful because of its economic value, living as it
does exclusively on seeds, and a large propor-
tion of its food being the seeds of our most in-
jurious weeds. It is a beautiful bird and one
which every sanctuary should attract and pro-
tect.
CHAPTER XII
RESIDENT BIRDS
WHEN winter comes and the migrating
birds are far away in the South, we
still have our good friends the resi-
dent birds, that stay with us through the cold
and storm of a northern winter.
Walking under a willow tree one December
morning a piece of bark fell across our path,
and looking up we saw the little Nuthatch, with
its long beak and keen bright eyes. It flitted
to another branch and hammered away a bit
of loose bark, breaking it away in search of in-
sects. Not far away the Chickadees were busy
flitting up and down the tree trunks. Bye and
bye the Woodpecker came in sight. So there
were Nuthatch, Chickadee and Woodpecker
doing the very thing that we would pay a man
three dollars a day for doing much less
thoroughly.
Later, there came a day of sleet and rain,
followed by frost, which covered the tree trunks
and branches with ice. What would the little
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
black and white Woodpecker, the long-beaked
Nuthatch and the short-beaked Chickadee do
now? The wind blew as it sometimes blows on
the Georgian Bay. If forced to go to the woods
they might not come back to the orchard. In
a sheltered nook behind the hedge we hung a
piece of suet. The first to come was the Wood-
pecker. His little feathers blew back and forth
as he bored out his dinner. Then came the
Nuthatch. The suet was freezing hard now
and he had to hammer away before he could get
a bite. He was rewarded at last, for he broke
off such a big piece that he flew away with it
to some spot where he could do proper justice
to it. The Chickadees came next and pecked
and pounded. They seemed to be satisfied with
smaller pieces. Sometimes they made a good
meal out of the crumbs the other birds dropped.
The suet was moved gradually nearer and
nearer the house, until it was just outside the
window. Although it was kept there always it
did not stop the work the birds were doing.
They were among the trees whenever possible.
But the fact that when hungry a bit of food
was always waiting for them kept them in the
orchard. And so all winter long they worked
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
for us. Besides their work we had the pleasure
of their visits at the window, and a delightful
break it made in the dreary winter days.
Later in the season a Blue Jay came. The
other birds always flitted away when he flew
into the hedge or drew near the suet. Doubt-
less with good reason they had no love for him.
But his feathers were beautiful. On a grey day
he was a soft grey blue, and when the sun shone
upon the snow he was the beautiful color of the
sky, with flecks of white like the fleecy clouds.
When perched upon a limb with the sky for a
background he was so like it that one looked
twice to see him. Even the dark bar about his
neck was like the branches of the trees against
the sky.
In spite of his beautiful feathers he has not
a prepossessing face, and one can easily believe
all the stories of his sins. His powerful beak
and the big pieces of frozen suet he can break
off, all go to show what tragedy he might bring
to the nests of our most desirable birds. He
devours some insects, but does he do enough
good to offset his sins? Still, he is a cheery
winter visitor, and perhaps it is too soon to
condemn him.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
By the latter part of March these resident
birds in most places are seldom seen. They
have gone off to search out hollow trees where
they can nest. Suitable nest boxes would keep
them with us and increase their numbers. But
Woodpecker and Chickadee nest very early, so
their nest boxes should be up the fall before.
A piece of suet hung near a nest box will at-
tract them to it. It is possible that the birds
may use these boxes to sleep in during the
winter as they do the hollow trees, and in that
case they are almost certain to remain and nest.
Chickadees usually prefer a hole in a soft birch
stub, so a house made for them of a decaying
birch log is one most likely to find favor.
In the early spring the Red-breasted
Nuthatch never fails to come to the orchard
trees. At this season it is a very bright
little bird, its reddish brown under parts
giving a touch of warm coloring to the
leafless branches. Late in the summer,
when the leaves are out and we do not need its
brightness so much, its red colouring fades and
it becomes more like its White-breasted cousin.
But though it has the same short tail and the
same long beak, it is so much smaller that it
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
can always be distinguished. There is no mis-
taking the Nuthatches. No birds have the
same long slender beaks, and no birds do
just the same sort of work on the tree
trunks and large branches, caring not at all
whether they go head downwards or head up-
wards so long as they can secure the insects
they are in search of. The Nuthatch family,
consisting of these two members, is a very
valuable one.
When the Chickadees accompany the Nut-
hatches we may know that the work in the
orchard will be very thoroughly done. Their
strong beaks dig out the insects that would do
much injury. But if by chance they should
miss any insects, or if some borers should be so
deeply imbedded in the bark that their beaks
prove not the right tools for digging them out,
there are two Woodpeckers that winter with us,
Hairy and Downy; and Downy, at least, may
be along any day.
If one watches the Woodpeckers at work one
will notice that they have a different action
from other birds in tapping on the trees. It is
usually Downy we see, for the Hairy Wood-
pecker, the larger of the two, prefers the woods,
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
and does not come’ so often to cultivated
orchards. But if Downy is given fair play he
will be there with the Chickadees and the Nut-
hatches, and any fruit grower who does not
realize what an expert he is in extracting borers
and the larvae of the coddling moth should
watch him at work. His beak can tear open the
hardest cocoon the caterpillar can weave.
Downy likes to keep his head up, and if he
comes down a tree trunk he does so tail first.
Like the Chickadee and the Nuthatch, the
Downy Woodpecker can be attracted to a nest
box by suet, but a nest box that he will accept
should be like his natural home in the woods.
The most satisfactory are made out of sections
of a decaying log, the excavation flask shaped,
and an inch or so of sawdust in the bottom to
take the place of the peckings that drop when
he hollows out his own nest in a tree.
There is still another helper in the orchard,
little Tree Creeper. Its whole existence is de-
rived from the trunks and branches of the
trees. Its nesting place is the crevice under a
flake of bark. Though a resident bird in the
north, it is seldom seen here until late winter
or early spring. It has several distinct little
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
ways of its own. In ascending a tree its tiny
body is very close to the trunk and partly sup-
ported by its tail, hence its name, Tree Creeper.
It hunts only when ascending. When as high
as it prefers to go it will flit to the ground and
start up again, either on the opposite side of
the same tree, or another tree.
These hard-working birds that stay with us
through the frost and snow and storm of the
long winter should have all the protection that
human beings can give them.
[113]
The Home of the Grouse. (Page 112.)
CHAPTER XIII
RESIDENT GAME BIRDS
WHY have we so many potato bugs?
The answer in a Quail district is very
simple, we have shot little Bob-White.
Poor Bob-White, the best potato bug destroyer
in the country, has gone the way of all the finest
game birds. Outside of carefully guarded
sanctuaries where are these birds to be found?
Only in very secluded spots, and even there
they have not been safe from the gunner for
any length of time. Now that they have been
given greater protection it is to be hoped that
they will increase throughout their range.
The birds of this species which the gunner
missed in his autumn “sports” were usually de-
creased in numbers by the snow in mid-winter,
for, since they do not migrate and the humans
for whom they worked for eight months of the
year usually forgot them for the remaining
four months when deep snow covered the
ground, they were often unable to get food.
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i
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
They can withstand the cold if they have
enough to eat, but without food they either
succumb or are too weak to escape from such
enemies as the Great Grey Owl, which make
serious ravages upon them.
Where Quail exist they can be protected and
the flocks saved by building a simple shelter
and keeping it supplied with food. Waste
grain would answer the purpose. But even
this may not enable them to increase. Any
that are spared to nest in the spring are at the
mercy of the cat, poor Bob-White’s most seri-
ous enemy apart from the gunner. In his home
on the ground his ten or fifteen eggs, or nest-
lings, are protected only by an arch of grass,
and where the cat finds them not one of the
birdlings will be left alive; and each of these
was soon to become a destroyer of our most in-
jurious insects.
Considering all the dangers that beset the
way of this little friend one cannot wonder that
it has disappeared from many parts that were
once considered Quail districts.
As it is a resident bird and a home bird, sel-
dom going any great distance, the sanctuary
can do very much towards increasing its num-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
bers. Though we are so far north, we hope to
try entertaining some Bob-White for a year,
to see if with plenty of food and shelter they
would thrive here. If a time should come
when in every potato patch we should hear
their whistling, Bob-White oh Bob-White, it
would indeed be a happy day for the farmer.
When Bob-White eats weed seeds all winter
he has a great appetite for meat in the spring.
It is then that insects are at hand. Here are a
few facts that have been gathered by investi-
gators: “Everywhere Quail is an eater of
weed seeds and insect pests.” “In two states it
has been estimated that Quail eat 1,341 tons
of weed seeds in every year.” One farmer re-
ported his fields full of Quail and no damage
from weevils. Another report stated that one
hundred potato bugs were found in the crop
of a Quail, and still another farmer reported
that Quail were walking between his rows of
potatoes picking the bugs off perfectly clean
as they went.
PARTRIDGE
“What queer little brown hens out by the
barberry hedge,” said our guest one October
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
morning. We had heard a shot down in the
bush, for this was before our sanctuary notices
were posted, and we knew that “little brown
hen” was a little hunted Grouse, or Partridge,
that had been driven to our very door for pro-
tection.
We hurried out across the orchard, down the
bank and round the edge of the bush. As we
passed the grove of cedars there was a loud
whirring of wings and a group of Partridge tak-
ing cover there, startled by our approach, flew
off. Round by the lake we traced the gunner
and saw him start towards town. Fortunately
he had not shot anything, but he had alarmed
the birds. It had always been hard to protect
them, and although the bush and swamp with
the uplands and the wooded bank where the
white birch grew, was an ideal spot for them,
they had been growing very few.
It is little wonder that the hunted game birds
have all sorts of devices to save their young.
None is more appealing than that of the mother
Partridge when she tries to attract attention to
herself by pretending that she has a broken
wing. A very pathetic figure she makes, some-
times keeping only a few yards ahead of a pur-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
suer. If he could disappear for a little while
he would soon hear her clucking to her babies
to bring them out from the dried leaves and
ferns where they had hidden. It has been said
of young Partridge and young Quail, that they
can disappear from your sight while you are
looking at them, without your having the
slightest idea where they have gone. They
seem to know just where they can dip down
among the vegetation and match it so perfectly
that they cannot be distinguished.
Like the Quail they are home birds. In
winter when the snow is deep they burrow
down and find shelter under it, where they
spend the nights. They are sometimes caught
by foxes as they leave this snowy shelter, for
these sly animals will follow any track that
they make when going in and out. And often
in the late, dusky afternoon, when returning to
these shelters, they fall a prey to the Great
Grey Owl or the Horned Owl.
At times when the snow is very deep it is
difficult for them to get food. Sheaves of wheat
or oats tied to the tree trunks, ears down, and
just above the snow, is one way of supplying
them with food.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Their value as game birds is not their only
use. Like Quail, they are valuable weed seed
and insect destroyers. They are specially fond
of grasshoppers, and late in the summer are
often seen on the grassy uplands that edge the
woods searching for these insects.
[120]
CHAPTER XIV
BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND THE MARSH
UP the Indian River, nestling in one of its
small, deep curves, was a hay field that
was the scene of a sad tragedy. Where
the field bordered on the river bank the ground
was soft and moist and the grass grew tall and
rank. Here, unknown to anyone, the Bittern
had made her nest of sticks and coarse grasses.
Like all birds, she had chosen a nesting place
where she was not easily distinguished. The
Bitterns, pointing their beaks upwards among
coarse, rank stocks, look like structures of the
vegetation, and so, although often their note,
which sounds so like the stroke of a mallet on a
stake that it gives them the name of stake
driver, had been heard, no one knew just where
they were nesting. Excellent timothy grew in
some parts of the field and, as that year hay
was scarce, the mower was run over even that
coarse grass near the river, and in its route
along the bank it came upon the nest of baby
Bitterns and two were killed.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
The driver regretted the accident chiefly be-
cause he feared the Bitterns would not return
to nest there another year. True birds of the
marsh, cousins of the Herons and the Storks,
they are solitary creatures, and make their
nests where they are not likely to be disturbed.
In the spring when the wild flags are beginning
to show green they come from the south and
search out their nesting places. In every sense
they are home birds, seldom wandering far
from the spot they have chosen so long as they
can get their food, which consists mostly of
fish, frogs and lizards. When they nest near
by one hears all through the early summer that
thumping sound which gives them the name of
Stake Driver or Thunder Pumper.
The agricultural implements are the least of
their dangers, for usually they nest on land too
rough and swampy for cultivation, or where the
farmer would get poor returns for his labor
were he to attempt to drive his mowing ma-
chine over the ground. The Bittern has been
more in danger from the gunner and his dog
than smaller birds of swamp and shore. Now
that the beautiful Herons are gone from most
of their old haunts, such birds as the Bitterns
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
become the victims of the gunner. They have
smaller cousins, known as the Dwarf Bitterns,
numerous in some places. But the American
Bittern needs greater appreciation and protec-
tion, especially now when the motor cars and
motor boats take the irresponsible sight-seer
among their solitary homes.
The Heron is one of the most beautiful and
perhaps one of the most unfortunate of our
large birds. Because it is tall and stately and
rare, and found only in lonely places, it has
been a mark for tourists who want some so-
called trophy of their visit to the country.
Years ago Herons nested here in colonies, but
now are seen only in pairs. Great Blue Herons
are frequently observed on the mill pond of the
Beaver, the shrubs and rushes of the islands of
the pond giving them the desired cover.
Another bird of the Marsh, though a mem-
ber of a different family, that has often fallen a
victim to the sight-seer is the handsome Crane.
At a summer resort on the Georgian Bay only
a year ago, when some children were telling of
what their fathers had seen and done, one little
ten-year-old said with triumph, “Father saw
a Crane ; he shot at it and almost got it.”
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Had her father got that Crane it would
doubtless have figured as a stuffed bird in his
library and its little nestlings would have been
left to starve. It is the fate that has befallen
many of these birds. Their size and their habit
of standing motionless in the water watching
for fish make them an easy mark for the tourist.
And their haunts are in country places where
laws for their protection have not always been
enforced. They are not fishers only; Cranes,
Storks, Herons and Bitterns are all destroyers
of insects.
Where Cranes have been protected they be-
come very trusting. Just at the mouth of the
Indian River on our lake shore front, an artist
was sketching one bright, late afternoon when
the sound of wings drew her attention and di-
rectly a shadow crossed her canvas and a Crane
lit in the shallow water in front of her, only a
few yards away from the boys bathing in the
river. The boys continued to splash about,
shouting to one another to “Look at the
Crane.” The Crane, quite undisturbed, stood
motionless watching for a fish, and the artist
had time to sketch it into the picture before a
splash (the movements were too rapid to be
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
distinguished) told that the fish had been
caught and away the great bird flew to the
nestlings beside the stream in the swamp.
The stately Crane added much to the pictur-
esqueness of the landscape. It was the touch
of life which nature had given to complete the
picture. How beautiful such spots must have
been years ago before its beautiful, unfortunate
cousin, the White or Whooping Crane, had
been slaughtered for its feathers, and when it,
too, stood in the shallow water watching for fish
for its babies, and adding its wonderful beauty
to nature’s picture.
It is to be hoped that before all our beautiful
birds are gone we shall realize that they are
treasures in our keeping and that for our care
of them we are responsible to those who come
after us. Had the plume-hunter, the feather
dealer, the woman who wore the feathers, and
the gunner who wanted to shoot every beauti-
ful feathered creature he saw realized this in
the past, there would be some White Cranes
fishing in our streams to-day.
The Coot is a bird so often mentioned by
the poets that the name never fails to call up
some picturesque spot by stream or lake. “I
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
come from the haunts of the Coot and Hern,”
and many another verse have been familiar
since our childhood. Belonging to the same
order as the Crane, the Coot has the pecu-
liarity of sometimes building a “floating nest,”
that is, it will make its nest on some clump of
coarse grass or stalks growing just over the
water and swayed by the movements of the
water. On one occasion the grass on which
was the nest was cut away in getting out some
logs, and though it floated across the pond the
bird went back to it and the young were hatch-
ed in safety.
Like the Coot and the Crane and the Bittern,
the Loon is becoming more rare in settled
parts. Though it belongs to a different order
(the diving birds), its home is in lonely places
by the water side, and as these haunts become
invaded by tourists the Loons must go. But
another reason for their disappearance is the
clearing away of bushes and trees from the
water’s edge, making it no longer a nesting
place for the Loon, which likes to nest where
it is hidden by overhanging foliage.
To another order belong the Gulls and
Terns, but they, too, are shore birds of won-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
derful intelligence, if one could call it that.
Across on the north shore a boy found two
young Gulls whose parents had evidently come
to grief. He carried them home, and every
night when he came in from work he took them
down to a small stream and caught tiny fish
for them. Soon they learned to watch for him,
sometimes going long distances to meet him.
And when he took his fishing pole and started
down the path to the stream they waddled
along behind. Beside the stream they sat, one
on each side of him and, as he fished, he gave
a fish first to one and then to the other until
their supper was over. Then they would
waddle back to the house with him and go to
bed each in its own corner. They grew rapidly
and when the summer had passed they were
full grown Gulls. As they had had no parents
to teach them and had not mingled with other
gulls, the boy wondered whether they would
fly south. But one day they disappeared, and
that night they did not come for supper. They
had gone on the long, long fly. And the boy
wondered how they would find their way and
if they would ever come back to him again.
But the charms of the south did not make them
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
forget their home in the north. Early one
spring morning two specks of white came flying
through the air and alighted on the roof of the
summer kitchen that the boy had carried them
to when they were young and helpless.
[128]
CHAPTER XV
THE SHORE BIRDS AND WADERS
THOUGH the Killdeer belong to the order
of shore birds and waders when with us,
fortunately for the farm, they spend
more time in the pasture than along the shore.
There are some pairs of Killdeer that have
nested here for many years and have become so
tame that they will run along directly in front
of us when we go out to catch the horses or
drive in the cattle. As runners they excel most
other birds. They will run along over the
ground until a stranger might suppose it was
their only way of crossing that field and that
their wings must indeed be small and weak.
Then, suddenly, they will raise their wings and
fly, not high, but usually just above the ground.
If they have been startled they will utter a
peculiar note of alarm at the moment they
cease to run and spread their wings to fly.
Their wings are a surprise to those who have
only seen them run. They are by no means
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
small, but big and powerful looking and beauti-
fully marked. It is only in flying that the Kill-
deer’s plumage shows to advantage. But they
do not fly far. The chances are they will alight
on the first stone or mound they come to and
wait until your approach and then trot along
ahead again, flying only when you have almost
reached them.
They nest in the fields, if four eggs on the
ground could be called a nest, and in such un-
protected spots are their eggs frequently found
that one wonders that little Killdeer are ever
hatched. Sometimes they do not even take the
precaution of laying their eggs on the sod,
often in seeding time they are found on the
ploughed land. One day when the men were
rolling a field they came upon a Mrs. Killdeer
sitting upon her four clay coloured eggs. They
moved the eggs, Mrs. Killdeer following,
though protesting, and settling down upon
them when they were placed upon the ground
again. Before the field was sown the eggs
were moved four times, yet in due course the
little family was hatched.
Of all the odd-looking little creatures the
baby Killdeer are the oddest. Their little
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
heads look like tassels, and when they run they
are like tassels blowing away. As soon as they
are big enough to move about they must follow
their mother when she is catching their meals,
for she will not bring food to them any longer
than is necessary. By following her up they
learn how to hunt for themselves, for soon,
very soon, baby birds must make their own
way in their world of dangers and disasters.
The food she is catching for them consists of
earthworms and insects, beetles being a par-
ticular delicacy. Hunting over the fields from
morning till night a family of Killdeer will
dispose of a large number of injurious insects.
They are the farmers’ friends and he may well
stop the team to move to a place of safety the
Killdeer’s eggs when he comes upon them.
Only towards autumn do these birds leave
the farms where they nest and gather in flocks
along the shore of rivers and lakes. They are
meeting to arrange for their long journey
south, where they must go when the frost comes
and they can no longer find food with us. They
must use their beautiful wings now. Perhaps
there is something in the philosophy of the
small boy who said they ran in the summer in-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
stead of flying to save their wings for the long
fly. In any case, it is on the wing that they
bid us good-bye, leaving our meadows silent
and lonely. But their haunts in the south will
not make them forget their old nesting places.
Some bright morning next April we shall hear
their cheerful, “Kill-deer, kill-deer,” and there
they will be, circling about and settling down
upon the same old stones and mounds, or
hunting their food about the little ponds which
melting snow has left in the hollows.
One June day, we made the discovery that
a family of weasels had made their home under
the old stone fence on the edge of the pasture.
In vain we laid in wait for those crafty enemies
of the birds. That night, sleeping in a tent, we
were awakened by the Killdeer cry of alarm.
Had the weasel crept stealthily upon a young
Killdeer sleeping soundly, its head tucked
under its wing, on one of the big, flat stones,
a favorite resting place? It was impossible to
tell what tragedy had been enacted.
Closely related to the Killdeer and much
like them, are the Snipes and the Sandpipers,
that make lonely spots on the beach so full of
life and cheer. Along the Nottawasaga Bay
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
where the sand on the beach is packed hard
and one can motor for miles along the water’s
edge, flocks of Sandpipers will sometimes fly
just ahead of the car, stopping to look for food
now and then when they get a little way ahead,
but taking to wing again directly the car over-
takes them, as if they enjoyed the race and
gloried in the fact that they were always ahead.
Well it is for the Sandpipers that they can
fly in safety so close to man. They have more
unfortunate cousins that would not dare to do
so, lest they should not be left alive to win the
race. The Curlews and the Woodcock are
these relatives, unfortunate and always in
danger because they are game birds. The sad
story of the Esquimau Curlew that nested in the
barren lands of the north, and for its winters
flew many thousands of miles to the south, is
mentioned in a succeeding chapter. Men lost
sight of the fact that the living bird was valu-
able as an insect destroyer, and shot them for
the market in coast towns when they brought
but a few cents each. As grasshopper destroy-
ers alone the Curlews were of much economic
value to man; passing, as they did, in large
flocks over so great an extent of territory, they
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
frequently arrived in some district just in time
to check the devastations of a plague of grass-
hoppers, or some other injurious insects de-
structive to vegetation.
The Woodcock would be with us now in all
our woods and swamps had it been protected.
“It is the game bird” writes one ornithologist.
This is the reason of its going. That it is mi-
gratory makes its protection a very difficult
matter. The Woodcocks may fly away in the
autumn and not be alive to return in the spring.
They are sometimes called Night Pecks or Bog
Birds. That is because they thrust their long
beaks into the soft earth for worms. The
beaks are perfectly straight and longer than the
head, soft and very sensitive. They seem to
know by feeling the earth with their beaks in
just what particular spot they will get the
worms.
The eggs, usually four, are laid, in most
places, before the end of April, earlier by those
that nest farther south. Their nests are on
the ground among the leaves and sticks. When
danger threatened their little ones the Wood-
cock have been known to carry them away by
holding them with their feet as they flew.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
The large, beautiful eyes of the Woodcock
are dimmed by the light, and it gets its food
mainly at night in the swamps and low
meadows, but in very wet seasons it would
sometimes hunt on higher land, while in dry
seasons it would resort to the creeks and the
banks of the rivers.
The poor Woodcock has been persistently
pursued in spring and summer, in nesting sea-
son and out of nesting season, and in the
winter when it migrates to the south. It has
been hunted in daylight when the light has
dimmed its eyes, and at night when it has been
dazzled and confused by lanterns and torches.
The wings in flying make a whistling sound,
and when in open meadows it thus draws atten-
tion to itself and is easily shot.
In writing of the Woodcock, Baird, one of
the best authorities, says : “In past days it re-
sorted in the winter in very large numbers to
the low land that borders the Mississippi. It
was safe there from ordinary hunting, but ‘fire
hunting’ was resorted to in the following man-
ner. The sportsman, armed with a double-
barreled gun and wearing a broad-brimmed
hat, proceeds, on a foggy night, to these
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
marshes. A stout negro carries on his head an
open vessel supplied with burning pine knots.
The hunter follows the torch bearer, his eyes
protected by his hat from the glare of the light.
The birds are seen sitting about on the ground,
staring in dazed bewilderment, and are often
killed in great numbers in this illegitimate
manner.”
The help that bird sanctuaries can give in
bringing back this bird is the only thing that
will save it from complete extermination.
Everyone who owns a bit of property on which
there are low, wet fields, marshy grounds and
woodland, the favorite resort of the Wood-
cocks, should endeavor to encourage and pro-
tect them. There is always a chance that some
may return in safety in the spring and that the
numbers will increase. As insect destroyers
they amply repay for any time and trouble
taken for them. Their food consists of worms
and several kinds of larvae which they find
under leaves and the debris of swampy woods.
But the real reward is far beyond material
things. It is the securing for future genera-
tions of a valuable wild bird that is in our
keeping. To secure success international inter-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
est should be taken in the saving of this bird,
otherwise when protected in one country it
would be shot in another. Every sanctuary
that gives it safety and a home is doing some-
thing towards arousing interest in the protec-
tion of this bird which alone will prevent its
going.
As the birds belonging to the order of Shore
birds and Waders nest on the ground, their
greatest four-footed enemy of recent years is
the homeless cat. The settling of the country
has brought them nearer the habitation of man,
where the cats abound. Occasionally their
eggs are trampled by sheep and cattle. Kill-
deer, Snipe and Sandpiper are not very parti-
cular where they deposit their eggs, and the
settling of the country has not deprived them
of nesting places. But the Woodcock is not so
fortunate ; with the disappearance of the wood-
lands invaluable springs are drying up. A bit
of swamp where there is good cover and plenty
of old stumps and fallen logs, beside which
they like to nest, is not often found in a farm-
ing district.
[137]
\
CHAPTER XVI
GEESE, SWANS AND DUCKS
IT is in apple picking time that the flocks of
wild Geese pass over Peasemarsh on their
way to the south. When the first flock
was seen last fall there was such frantic shout-
ing to us from the orchard that we rushed out
fearing some of the boys had fallen from the
long ladders that reached to the top of the
spy trees. Reaching the orchard, breathless, we
were greeted by the reassuring, “Look at the
wild Geese! Look! Quick!” We looked, and
there flying through the air was a noble squad-
ron of Canada Geese. The peak of the Blue
Mountain so near the shore a few miles to the
south-east causes them to fly high, unless they
rest at the mouth of the Indian River, or in the
sheltered bay below. Several flocks rested
there last fall, and in the early morning were
seen rising up from the water and setting out
upon the journey southward. In the early
spring they pass again northward, homeward.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
That flocks are left alive to migrate says
volumes for their intelligence.
The most beautiful relative of the wild Goose
is the wild Swan. A few are still left and every
spring make their way to their nesting places
in the Arctic. One of their greatest dangers of
the journey is at the great waterfall of Niagara.
Frequently they alight at night in the smooth
water above the fall and when asleep are ap-
parently carried down into the current, and
then nothing can save them from being swept
over the falls. Often some are wounded by be-
ing swept against blocks of ice, others are only
stunned and would recover and go on their
way, but frequently are killed by men that lay
in wait for them. Geese and Ducks are also
sometimes taken in this way. It is to be hoped
that the migratory law for the protection of
birds can be enforced to prevent these
noble travellers from being slaughtered while
struggling to free themselves from the danger
of the mighty waterfall.
A wild Swan was found recently wounded
on the ice on the shore of Lake Erie, near
Dunnville, by a Mr. Docker and rescued by
him. This magnificent bird had met with mis-
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
fortune when it had still thousands of miles
farther to fly to its home on the Arctic shore.
It has always been hard to protect the wild
Ducks here. Years ago they were very numer-
ous, but they disappeared rapidly as rifles be-
came more plentiful and motor cars brought
the gunners from neighboring towns, but now
that they have special protection here a few
have come back.
On the other side of the river is a pond long
known as the Duck pond, having been given
its name in happier days for the Ducks, when
they dared come in large numbers to the
Georgian Bay. At one time this pond measur-
ed over a hundred rods in diameter. Children
were warned to be careful when boating or
skating there, for the pond was very deep; in
fact it was vaguely whispered that it was bot-
tomless. Around it grew reeds and bushes that
sheltered the Ducks.
But alas for the great pond ! the fire got into
the bush around it, and before it could be
checked most of the trees about the pond were
swept away. After this it dwindled until it
became but a small frog pond, with no- shelter
about it for the wild Ducks. The Ducks that
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
come to the shore now resort to the sheltered
bay.
“What good are they if they are to be pro-
tected so you cannot shoot them?” is a ques-
tion frequently asked. Those who take no
pleasure in the homeward flight of the weary
travellers that have covered thousands of miles
exposed to every danger, should consider the
history of the birds. When the white man
first came they were everywhere. When
Montreal was but a group of huts, the little
Ville-de-Montreal, it was but a few minutes’
walk to flocks of innumerable numbers of
Ducks. This was what the white man found
when he came. Has he any right to wipe them
out of existence so that his children and his
children’s children will never see them? He
h&s gone a long way towards wiping them out
already, and each year they are growing still
less. It is time to let the wild Duck migrate
and nest in safety. To the success of the pro-
tection of the sanctuaries depends the increase
here, for men who do not need them for food
will gain access to their haunts and disregard
any laws limiting the number allowed each
hunter.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
There are many incidents to prove that
Woodducks, Mallards and Golden Eyes can
be attracted by safety and food to suitable
nesting sites. The Mallards, as they make
their nests of sticks, grasses and feathers on
the ground, require only the necessary environ-
ment, but the Golden Eyes and Woodducks,
nesting in hollow trees, can be supplied with
nest boxes. There are incidents when Golden
Eyes have nested in chimneys. It is said that
when young Ducks, hatched therein, are ready
to leave the nest, the old Duck sits on the top
of the chimney and waits for them to climb up,
fall over the edge of the roof and from there
fall to the ground. Strange to say this adven-
turous entering of the outside world has no ill
effect upon them.
In the swamp here we hope to re-instate the
Woodduck, the most beautiful of all its
family, and believed by some to be the bird
nearest extinction. Years ago it was dis-
tributed all over the wooded portions of
Ontario, arriving in the province about the
time the ice disappeared from the lakes and
rivers. Hollow trees near water were always
likely to contain a Woodduck nest. When
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
ready to leave the nest the young would have
to scramble up and fall over the edge, or else
be carried out in the mother’s bill. The story
of an early settler here comes to mind. Work-
ing in the bush near a stream he sat down for
his noon-day lunch and presently discovered
that just in front of him was a Woodduck tree
and that the mother bird was carrying her off-
spring one after the other out of the tree to the
side of the stream beyond. This shows that
Woodduck nest boxes should be not far from
a pond or stream to be suitable, for the duck-
lings must be taken to the water while they
are still small.
In writing of this bird Coues says, “The
spring shooting on its breeding ground has
made it rare in many places where it was once
common.”
And Mcllwraith in his “Birds of Ontario,”
says, “Owing to their great beauty these birds
are much sought after by all classes of sports-
men and are now seldom seen, except in re-
tired ponds and marshes where they breed.”
Wild Ducks have been frequently domesti-
cated. An instance is mentioned by Baird
where wild ducklings taken when young were
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
fed freely on cornmeal soaked in water, and
when they grew up “caught flies with great ex-
pertness.”
The story of little Quack, told by a cousin of
a Canadian Ornithologist, who spent her child-
hood in Muskoka, shows how companionable
they will become. Little Quack belonged to a
family of ducklings whose mother had come to
grief. They were rescued by the children of
this family, taken home and given to a mother
hen. Every day they went swimming in the
stream, the frantic foster mother cackling,
flapping her wings, and running down stream
after them. Weasels and other four-footed
bird enemies living along the stream learned
to watch for their daily swim, and each night
the hen came home with a duck less, till only
one was left. To save this one from the
dangers of the stream the children took it to
the house. They named it Little Quack and
it soon installed itself as a member of the
family and learned to waddle along behind the
children wherever they went. It went to school
with them, and would hide under the desks
until school was out. On the way was a little
bridge it could not cross itself, and would al-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
ways wait to be carried over, calling after them
if they forgot to do so. It learned to know the
friends they visited, and had its favorites
among them. At one house was a little child
that would pull it about and disturb its
feathers, which it disliked intensely. When
they arrived at this home for a visit Quack
would disappear, but was always within hear-
ing. When they were ready to go home they
would say, “Come Quack, we are going,” and
Quack would answer from the dark corner
under some chair or sofa and out he would
come.
[146]
CHAPTER XVII
MIGRATION OF BIRDS
THE flock of wild Geese flying high, like
specks against the grey November sky,
is one of the greatest wonders in the
world of feathered things. They have come
from their home in the far distant Arctic, and
there among the clouds they are heading
straight for their winter home hundreds of
miles away. For weeks before the Geese fly
south, flock after flock of smaller birds have
been going, some disappearing in the late sum-
mer, others in the early autumn, others when
cold winds are blowing and the Geese are fly-
ing south. The few migrants that are left are
gathering in flocks and any morning we may
find them gone. Where do they go, and how
do they find the way?
In the old days when the Redmen sat about
their campfires watching the shadows grow
deeper, they pondered over such great mys-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
teries as the setting of the sun, the rising of
the moon and the blowing of the wind, and
among these was that mystery of the autumn,
the passing of the birds. About those wigwam
fires strange tales were told of warriors that had
travelled down the great streams and had come
upon flocks of birds feeding among the trees
and shrubs that were never leafless, and bath-
ing in the pools that were never frozen; and
there grew among the Redmen a legend of the
travels of the birds. It seems that when the
Great Spirit first sent the Snow Chief down to
earth He made pathways in the sky with fleecy
cloud flecks that only birds could see, and all
those birds that could find no food when the
Snow Chief reigned over the land, were to
follow those pathways and they would lead
them to food and warmth and sunshine. But
when the Snow Chief took his robe of snow
and ice from off the earth they must return
again to the old nesting places. And ever
since along those pathways in the sky the
birds have travelled every autumn and home-
ward every spring.
The White man simply says it is the birds’
sense of direction that shows them the way.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
But as to why they go by certain routes he
gives no answer.
So far north as this one seldom sees the large
flocks of birds that gather together in migrat-
ing season in the region of Lake Ontario and
Lake Erie, but the birds that have nested here
gather in small flocks before starting away.
Sometimes many of them disappear early in
the season, but very few have really gone.
They are merely off along the lakes and rivers
or in the fields and woods. For the education
that must be given the young birds before they
set out upon the long fly these birds require a
wider stretch than their nesting sites. The
little ones must try their wings and learn to
avoid the dangers by the way. The most re-
markable thing in the migration of birds is that
the nestlings of a few months before set out
upon that stupendous journey. Many of the
birds that have nested in the sanctuary come
back to the old nesting place as if they were
saying good-bye. Then some morning we
awake to find them gone.
It is impossible in one short chapter to fol-
low the journeys of all our birds. The story
of these wonderful travels would fill many
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
volumes. But by considering the distance tra-
velled by a few of the best known birds one can
form some idea of the migratory flight.
Many of the birds that nest with us go upon
a very long journey, some to the Central or the
Southern parts of South America. Our Bobo-
link winters in Brazil. He seems to time his
journey so that he reaches the rice fields of the
different states through which he passes, when
the rice is at its best. So regularly does he
appear that he is called in some places the rice
bird. Our Green and Yellow Warblers cross
the Gulf of Mexico. We are told that often
they are overtaken by storms that force them
down nearer and nearer to the surface of the
water. When their plumage becomes soaked
and heavy, flying against the wind is almost
impossible, and many are caught by the crest
of the waves as they dash up. Others, becom-
ing exhausted, drop into the water. After
storms in migrating season the shore for miles
is sometimes dotted with the bright colored
bodies of these little travellers.
When the Blackpoll Warbler rests for a few
days in the orchard one cannot look at it with-
out marvelling that those tiny wings can take
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
it on so great a journey. It, too, will cross
the Gulf of Mexico, but it has already flown
thousands of miles from its nesting place in
the Arctic.
Our Chimney Swifts winter in Central
America, our Barn Swallows in the tropics.
Our Kingfishers and Yellow Billed Cuckoos
have been known to visit Bermuda. Some
birds that nest in the far north, winter in the
southern part of South America. Others, like
the Robin and the Blackbird, do not winter
farther south than the southern part of the
United States.
The small birds, such as Wrens and Warbl-
ers that cannot fly fast enough to escape birds
of prey, migrate by night. The shy, retiring
birds, such as Thrushes and Woodcocks, also
migrate at night. Those that migrate by day
are the strong flyers like the Blackbirds, Swal-
lows and Crows, or those birds which in their
native haunts are not so shy and retiring and
are accustomed to making long flights where
they have not much cover. Among these are
the Robins and Bluebirds and some of the
Finches. Strange to say the Hummingbird is
among those birds which migrate by day. But
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the Hummingbird knows that its wings are a
marvel.
It is remarkable that the birds should know
when to start and where to meet in flocks for
the journey. But the greatest wonder is that
they find their way, though they fly too high
above the earth to be guided by it. Often one
flock of the same species will be days behind
another, yet they keep to the same route, as if,
according to the Indian Legend, they really had
pathways in the sky.
The return flight is equally wonderful.
After their travels of many thousands of miles
the birds not only find their way back to the
particular garden, or orchard, or tree clump,
or stream where they nested the year before,
but, they arrive there at almost the same date
each year. Some cold day in March we waken
to hear our little Song Sparrow, one of the first
to tell us that spring is coming; a little later
we hear the Meadowlark and the liquid notes
of the Bluebirds that have returned to their
last year’s nest box. One after the other they
all come home, each announcing its arrival in
its own peculiar way. It is usually about the
first of May before the Wren is singing on his
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
nest box, and Mrs. Wren will follow in the
course of a few days.
It may be that we miss some of the last
year’s guests. The sad part of migration is
that some will fall victims to the perils by the
way. To the dangers of the journey that have
always existed, man has added many more.
His lighthouses are a deadly allurement. In-
numerable birds, attracted by the lights, strike
against them and are killed. Telegraph and
telephone wires are sometimes fatal obstruc-
tions to birds at night, or when struggling in
blinding storms. But still more serious have
been the ravages of the gunner and the plume
hunter, who find their work easiest in migrat-
ing season.
Fortunately the birds have staunch friends
among the human beings who have long con-
tended that feathered travellers should be
wards of the Government and have safe con-
duct on their journeys. The International
Treaty between Great Britain and the United
States for the protection of migrating birds in
the United States and Canada, passed in 1916,
is the greatest step that has ever been taken in
this direction. If this law is enforced through-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
out these countries it will undoubtedly result in
the increase of many forms of bird life, but
especially game birds and large, rare birds.
It is a sad fact that it was the coming of the
white man that made such a law necessary.
The Indian in his original state looked with
reverence and wonder at the bird world.
Though he took birds for food he apologized to
them for doing so, pleading his necessity, and
wishing them all good things in the spirit
world. To the red man the wild things were
little brothers. When that sense of reverence
and comradeship for all living things gave
place to our materialism only carefully en-
forced laws could save birds from being
slaughtered when on their wonderful journeys.
But though we have shot the Albatross we
have stories to show that comradeship for wild
creatures did exist sometimes among the
pioneer white men.
Not long ago an old man of the passing
generation was telling of a night many years
ago in his lonely log house. An early fall
storm of wind and sleet and snow had been
raging most of the day, and, as night descended,
there came down about his door a flock of wild
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Geese that had struggled against it as long as
they could. Wet, bedraggled and weary they
sought shelter under the projecting roof of his
cabin. There they remained until the early
morning.
“And did you not have a shot at them?”
asked the youth of to-day.
The old man of the generation that is pass-
ing looked at the boy of the generation that is
coming and answered,
“No.”
He looked out across the broad fields beyond.
He looked again at the boy and said:
“There is room for all earth’s travellers.”
[155]
CHAPTER XVIII
NEED OF PROTECTION FOR BIRDS
THE feathered creatures live in a world
beset by dangers. Each year hundreds
and thousands meet some tragic, un-
timely end. Many times they are overtaken
by storms and either perish from the elements
or starve to death because in a world of hurri-
cane and sleet and rain they cannot get their
food. On all sides they are in danger from
natural enemies of the wilds that have hunted
them from earliest times. But by far their
greatest danger has come from man and the
enemies that man has brought to them. When
one considers what the birds have done it
seems incredible that from him they have had
most to fear.
The storms cannot be prevented, but the
little feathered creatures need any protection
from them that can be given. Often they are
sadly in need of food when their natural sup-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
ply is cut off by the elements. In extremely
cold weather it is only food which keeps their
little bodies warm, and if they cannot get it
they soon perish. When snow is very deep the
seed-eating birds are entirely dependent upon
what they can gather from stray stalks that
rise above the snow. Frequently even these are
covered by drifts, and then such birds as Quail
are liable to starve to death in large numbers.
Supplying food in sheltered places is a great
help to both resident and migratory birds, es-
pecially the early comers that are liable to be
overtaken by storms.
To protect the birds from their natural ene-
mies is not always possible. For the birds that
come to our own premises, however, much can
be done towards keeping down wild creatures
that prey upon them. By doing this not only
will the birds already there be protected but
their numbers will rapidly increase, for safety
is the greatest attraction that birds can have.
Abundant food supplies will draw them to a
spot, but freedom from danger means much
more. Scarcity of food they can overcome by
flying long distances and hunting late and
early, but they are no match for snakes, crows,
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
weasels, skunks, or the great grey Owls when
they come upon them unawares or carry off
their nestlings.
But since the greatest danger has come from
man, it is from him that they most need pro-
tection. There is an old well-known story of
a king who was very fond of cherries and had
some fine specimens growing in his palace gar-
den. One day, it seems, he became very angry
because he found a bird pecked one among
those brought to him and he straightway made
a law compelling all the men to turn out and
kill all the birds in all the kingdom. So this
was done, and he expected that now he would
have beautiful cherries and not a bird-pecked
one among them. But, alas for his hopes, he
had no cherries at all. The insects that the
birds had lived upon attacked the trees in such
hordes that soon they all died.
That mistake, made long ago in olden times,
has been repeated year after year. The shoot-
ing of Robins in cherry trees has not ceased.
The only thing that will protect the Robin is
education in the value of birds. The Robins
are naturally insect eaters and if they are seen
helping themselves to a few cherries, who would
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
begrudge a few sour cherries to so hard a
worker as a Robin ? They are only taking that
to which they have earned a right. Had the
unfortunate king known what would happen
if the birds were gone he would doubtless have
spared them.
If all the birds have done for trees were re-
corded it would be much more than human
owners have done. Education and interest in
the value of birds will in time protect them
from the ignorance and thoughtlessness of
human beings. Children who learn to attract
and protect them, and watch and study them,
will never grow up to give them anything to
fear. They will never make the Robin, or the
Barn Swallow, or the Meadowlark their tar-
gets. With a large proportion of the human
race the birds are coming into their own.
There are some, happily a very small pro-
portion, however, who have done dark deeds in
the world of birds with their eyes wide open.
They are those who seem to have no thought
for anything beyond petty dollars, and so long
as their dark deeds will bring them dollars
there is little hope for the birds they have
wronged. Strenuous laws may keep them in
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
check, but usually their deeds are carried out
far back in the wilds where they can escape the
law. Knowledge of their work given broad-
cast to the world may prevent a market for
their produce, and this alone would bring to an
end their crimes against the feathered
creatures.
The misery and destruction that man has
brought upon birds for a little gain is one of
the saddest stories that history has to tell.
Beautiful plumaged birds have suffered most.
Among these were the Great White Heron and
the White Egret. The Great White Herons,
which nested in colonies, were at one time
abundant in different parts of the United
States, and feather dealers sent men out to
their nesting places, because at nesting time
their plumage was most beautiful, and also be-
cause they were then easiest to get, for no ter-
rors would make them leave their helpless
little ones in the nests. The men hid in the
bushes and shot the parent birds as they came
to the nest with food.
Deceitful means were also used to get these
birds. Sometimes a wounded one would be
placed in a thicket, round which the men hid,
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
knowing that by its calling it would attract
others to it and they could then be shot.
What did these hunters care for the little ones
left to call vainly for mothers that would never
come again? Night came on and no mothers’
wings were spread protectingly over them. The
cold grey morning came and they called again
more faintly, and still more faintly, until they
were too weak to be heard. Soon they, too, were
dead. But what did the men care ? They were
to receive a few paltry dollars, and thoughtless
women would wear the feathers taken from the
dead parents of the dead baby birds.
There have been lonely islands where beauti-
ful birds have made their homes, changing the
dull rocks and sands to a spot of beauty and
song. Market hunters have found them out
and visited the islands, leaving them desolate
spots, strewn with the mutilated bodies of the
once lovely feathered creatures. And all this
change because the feathers are used for
millinery purposes and desired by women who
ignorantly fancy they make them more at-
tractive.
The story of the beautiful Heron and the
story of the Snowy Egret, whose feathers are
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
torn from it while it is still living, should be
told in every millinery store, and to every
woman who wears them, told over and over
again until, instead of the beautiful plume in
her hat, she sees only the wounded bird. Then,
perhaps, the hunter will have no market for the
produce of his murder. But until that time
only the most carefully guarded laws will pro-
tect the birds of beautiful plumage.
How much such laws need to be carried into
effect is shown by the history of bright plum-
aged birds that have been almost wiped out of
existence. The Great White Heron and the
Egret, once so numerous, have become very
rare. The Trumpeter Swan and the Whoop-
ing Crane are almost gone. Even our tiny,
bright colored songsters sometimes fall a prey
to the plume hunter.
But it is not only millinery purposes that are
causing the destruction of birds. Side by side
with the loss of bright plumaged birds comes
the loss, in some cases the extermination, of
those that come under the head of game birds.
Hunters who cannot be called sportsmen are
responsible for the extinction of valuable birds
and the decrease of others to such an alarming
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
extent that without greater protection they,
too, will be gone.
The story of the Esquimau Curlew is one
which everyone should consider. No story
sounds a clearer note of warning. Eighty years
ago these birds migrated in great flocks of
many thousands. Far in the north they nested,
from Alaska on the west to Labrador on the
east, while the Barren Lands, the land the
Indians who accompanied Hearne to the Arctic
Sea, called the land of Little Sticks, because
only stunted trees grew there, was their favor-
ite nesting place. Their winters were spent in
the southern part of South America, near Cape
Horn. Twice each year their wings carried
them the length of two continents. Fortun-
ately their nesting places were so far north that
they could not be slaughtered there, for few
white men could reach them. There were no
fast trains to the Barren Lands of the Arctic,
and the Indians and Esquimaux, as we have
seen, were not guilty of exterminating wild
creatures. Any not needed for food were al-
lowed to live. It was the white man who
wiped out the Esquimau Curlew. He attacked
them when in dense flocks they made their
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
way south in the fall on that long, long flight
from the Arctic to the southernmost part of
America. On the way they had well-known
resting places. Men found out these resting
places and the date at which the Curlew were
due there, and fell upon the weary birds as they
alighted. At some places when they were
roosting at night on the beach banks, packed
close together, men went out with lanterns and
slaughtered them by hundreds and thousands.
They were killed off Labrador, off Newfound-
land, off the New England coast, at any spot
where they attempted to rest.
Terribly decreased in numbers they at last
tried to escape their human enemy by chang-
ing their course, flying, instead of along the
eastern coast, inland as far as the Mississippi.
They were only to find that the human beings
who should have protected them were there
also to kill them. The fact that they were won-
derful birds, with almost human instincts, only
helped in their destruction. If one were
wounded and called to the others they would
come back to it and hover round it. In spite
of their own danger they would not leave it and
men, no better than savages, taking advantage
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B I R DS OF PEASEMARSH
of this, would shoot them down even as they
tried to help a wounded comrade.
That wonderful flight is a thing of the past.
The flocks of Esquimau Curlew are gone.
Within the last few years, it is said, that only
occasional specimens have been seen — and
shot. Even now, when the story of the Curlew
is known, those few rare birds have not been
left in safety to increase their numbers.
That far northern land of “Little Sticks,” by
nature the home of these valuable birds, is now
a lonely spot. The nesting season comes and
goes. There are no more dense flocks of Cur-
lews. It is indeed a barren land.
Still more numerous at one time was the
Passenger Pigeon, known throughout Canada
and the United States. These birds abounded
in such flocks that their flight is said to have
darkened the sun. But alas, they, too, have
gone. They were slaughtered at their nesting
season and as they migrated. The story of the
Passenger Pigeon gives the most forceful
proof that no birds, no matter how numerous,
can long withstand the attacks of man in their
breeding grounds. Too late men awoke to the
fact that they had completely wiped them out.
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
In the old home of the Pigeon they had be-
come extinct.
The changing condition of the country, for
which man is responsible, is the cause of one of
the greatest needs for the protection of birds.
Bush, shrubs, clumps of bushes, long coarse
grass, weeds, brush heaps, hollow stumps, trees,
and old rail fences have been rapidly disappear-
ing, so that the birds have but little hiding
place. They are exposed to danger from their
old enemies, the wild things, and to danger
from man and the enemies he has brought
them, among which the domestic cat is the most
deadly. Not only are cats a serious menace
to full-grown birds, but those that nest on the
ground have no safety where cats exist in large
numbers, or where homeless cats are allowed
to roam.
The clearing of the land and the existence of
the cat has had as much to do with the decrease
of Quail as have the most unscrupulous gun-
ners. Little Bob-White’s nestlings have again
and again been devoured, the whole nestful at
a time, by that sly, watchful, green-eyed enemy
that creeps near on padded feet and springs
upon them unawares.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
All that are left of our game birds are in
danger of extermination. Any occasional pair
that might happen to venture near the habita-
tion of man should be carefully guarded. Un-
fortunately they are usually hunted until they,
too, are gone.
As the land has been cleared and the birds
find less natural protection, the weapons for
their destruction have become more deadly,
and, with a network of railways, motor boats,
and motor cars, the means of reaching their
haunts more rapid and direct. Without greater
protection from man the last remains left to us
of the once great flocks of these shy, wild,
feathered things will be wiped out and we shall
see when it is too late that they have vanished
from the earth forever.
[168]
1. A fox hole in the hank. (Page 168.)
2. One red squirrel less. (Page 169.)
3. Indigo Bunting’s nest. (Page 205.)
CHAPTER XIX
FEATHERED AND FOUR-FOOTED BIRD ENEMIES
FEATHERED enemies are those from
which it is very difficult to protect our
small birds, and unfortunately some
have been rapidly increasing in numbers.
Much has been written of the good qualities
of the Crow, of his sins perhaps we have not
heard enough. It is not easy to condemn in
wholesale fashion a bird that figures so largely
in fables of our childhood, and that school
books from time immemorial have termed the
wise old Crow. In spite of tradition, however,
the Crow has become, in some districts, one
of our most serious bird enemies.
In the old days, the days in which the fables
and the early school book stories originated,
the Crow was not so serious an enemy of our
smaller birds, for comparatively they were not
so numerous. They had enemies of their own
to keep them in check. Huge Owls were the
terror of the Crows at night, and Eagles and
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Hawks, besides four-footed enemies which do
not now exist in cleared farming districts, de-
pleted their numbers. What Crows there were
then had to be on the alert for their own enemies
and were not so likely to go bird-nesting. They
knew that if they attempted to move stealthily
about watching some bird to see where its nest
was, they were very likely to be pounced upon
by a creature bigger than themselves, whose
approach they had not noticed. So the Crows
did not increase so much in numbers and were
not able to cause the decrease to any extent of
the song birds. Nature preserved a balance.
Since the days of the writing of the fables
man has interfered much with the balance of
nature. With his coming and the clearing of
the land the enemies of the Crows have almost
gone, and the consequent increase in the num-
ber of Crows has been a great drain on the
Crow food supply. A hungry Crow will soon
acquire the bird-nesting habit, not only robbing
the nest himself, but passing on the habit to his
children and his grandchildren. The fables
hold good so far as the wisdom of the Crow is
concerned. Clever criminals are the most
dangerous, so the Crow soon becomes an adept
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
in bird-nesting. When food is scarce there is
not a nest on the hill-side the location of which
he does not know; he knows, too, when the
nestlings will be big enough to make a meal.
When a Crow is seen moving silently about
among the trees, usually in the early morning
or late in the day, one may be fairly sure of
the business he has in hand.
During the last few years the Crows have
been very troublesome here. They are es-
pecially on watch for the young Robins, and
have been known to come up almost to the
house and carry off a Robin that had been for
some days out of the nest. They have done
this in spite of the most frantic efforts of the
old birds to ward them off. The smaller birds
are almost entirely at their mercy where
European Sparrows are allowed to nest about
the buildings, for it drives them farther out,
where they can have no protection. Since man
is responsible for the increase in the Crow
population, he owes it to the small birds to
step in and re-instate the balance of nature.
The Crow enemies cannot be brought back, but
the number of Crows can be lessened in every
district where they are too numerous. In coun-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
try places it has become of vital importance
that small birds should be protected from them.
All that has been said of the Crow applies
also to the Crow-Blackbird, and applies with
emphasis, for the Blackbird will glide in and
out of the thickets where the song birds nest,
escaping our notice more easily than a Crow.
The Blackbird has also increased in numbers
and unless kept in check but a small propor-
tion of the nests of the song birds can escape.
Another bird, the Shrike, has been known to
take not only nestlings, but the adult birds
where they can be obtained. Somewhere near
the farm a pair of Shrikes have nested for two
years in succession and evaded all efforts to in-
duce them to move their housekeeping opera-
tions farther on. Their lookout point is usually
a telegraph wire along the road near the river.
The boys when fishing one evening saw a
Shrike pounce upon and kill a Bluebird. The
Shrike, however, is an insectivorous bird and
protected by the Migratory Bird Convention
Act.
A bird that has a different way of extermin-
ating nestlings is the Cowbird. Where a Cow-
bird egg is deposited in a small bird’s nest it
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BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
usually means the destruction of the rightful
nestlings. The large Cowbird egg takes up
half the room in the nest, and the big birdling
hatched from it will very likely squeeze the
little birdlings out altogether, or crush the eggs
before they are hatched. Warblers’ nests
should be examined wherever possible and any
Cowbird’s egg found there removed. Some-
times the birds will build another story to the
nest, above the Cowbird egg, and there have
been cases where the Cowbird has returned and
laid an egg in the upper story.
In some localities it is claimed that the Blue-
jay destroys as many eggs and nestlings as the
Blackbird, but with us it has never been the
case, as the Bluejay exists in very small num-
bers and does not haunt the orchard and gar-
dens in all seasons as do some other bird-
nesters.
Besides these feathered enemies there are
those commonly called birds of prey, certain
Owls and Hawks, but as these prey upon do-
mestic fowls as well, they will always be more
or less kept in check, and besides they destroy
a great many bird enemies, which to some ex-
tent balances the injury they do. Even the
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Screech Owl, usually considered a beneficial
bird, will devour small birds, catching them
when they have gone to sleep at night ; and the
Great Horned Owl is very destructive to bird
life. But be this said in his favor, he some-
times kills Crows. He also destroys a great
many rats and mice. The Great Grey Owl and
the Snowy Owl occasionally visit us, but only
in severe winters, and when they come the
Chickadees and Nuthatches usually disappear,
returning again when the Owls are gone.
Hawks will never become very numerous in
the settled districts where poultry is kept. It
is a mistake, however, to condemn all the
Hawks, for some are very beneficial, and while
they may take some small birds, they destroy
a great many bird enemies. Probably the least
harmful is the little Sparrow Hawk, as it lives
mostly on mice and grasshoppers. The hand-
some Marsh Hawk might also be classed
among those not objectionable. There are
others, however, that would be a great menace
to the birds were they allowed to become nu-
merous. The Sharp Shinned and the Coopers
Hawk are the most destructive to bird life.
Of the four-footed enemies happily a few, such
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
as bears, wolves and wild-cats, have disappear-
ed with the settling of the country. But where
they have gone the cat has come. The cats, like
the European Sparrows, have been brought by
man, and unless man will keep them in check
they will become a still greater menace to bird
life. Some cats are inveterate bird hunters, ap-
parently preferring them to rats or mice, and
for the birds that nest on the ground there is
little or no escape. A tax on cats, similar to
the dog tax, might help to some extent, as it
would undoubtedly lessen the number of stray
cats and prevent them being kept by irrespon-
sible people. If each cat wore a little bell it
would save a great many grown birds, as they
would be warned of its coming, but this would
not save the nestlings. Those in nests on the
ground or in low bushes, and even in the tree
tops would still be at their mercy, for some
cats are great climbers. Neither would it save
the young birds learning to fly. These are
more often pounced upon by the cat than by
any other bird enemy. A cat should never be
kept where birds are being attracted, and no
bird-lover should own a cat unless he is pre-
pared to keep it in when the birds are nesting.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Of the wild four-footed bird enemies some
are still left. By far the most clever of these
is the fox. However, they also destroy bird
enemies, and besides, the poor foxes are hunted
themselves. Except in very lonely, far-away
places, they are not left long in peace, their
skins are too fashionable in the world of
humans for life to be a very certain course for
them. Were it not for this they would be a
serious enemy to the birds, for they are adepts
in searching out and catching their prey.
They have been known to spring up to catch
small birds on the wing. But probably they
have done the greatest harm to Partridge and
Quail, tracking them to their coveys under the
snow.
Mink have been a great menace to the birds
along the streams, but they have grown too
rare in most places now to do much harm. So
long as the value of their fur continues to in-
crease they are not likely to become very
numerous in a settled country.
Weasels are one of the worst of the bird ene-
mies. They hunt by scent and are wonderful
climbers; moreover, they kill for the sake of
killing. However, they prey upon poultry as
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
well, and so are likely to be kept in check.
Wherever they occur they destroy some bird
enemies.
The red squirrel is one of the chief of four-
footed menaces to bird life in cultivated lands.
They have been seen devouring both eggs and
nestlings. Nearly all red squirrels seem to be
bird-nesters. The nests of all small birds, es-
pecially those that nest in hollow trees, are at
their mercy. Some squirrels deliberately
watch the birds to learn where the nests are.
Here at the farm they have been known to
gnaw the entrance of a wren box until they
could enter and devour the eggs. After this
tin was put round the openings of the wren
boxes, or the trees protected by tin on which
the nest boxes were hung. One of the first
duties of a Sanctuary owner is to rid the
grounds of the red squirrel.
[177]
CHAPTER XX
THE EUROPEAN SPARROW AS A NUISANCE
ONE problem confronts every bird land-
lord. It is how to keep out that persis-
tent nuisance, the European Sparrow.
The farmer bird-lover is more troubled with
these pests than any other, for the constant
feeding and handling of grain will bring them
about, no matter how systematically he tries to
get rid of them. These Sparrows were more
troublesome here a year ago than they had
been for some time before. Possibly this was
because the sheep had been kept through the
winter at the barn, about which we had been
trying to attract the birds, and oats had been
fed them out in the troughs in the barnyard.
A certain amount of wheat had also been kept
at the barn. So, altogether, the Sparrows must
have been attracted from neighboring barns,
for the summer before we had reduced them to
only an occasional pair.
[179]
M
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
It was not until spring, however, that we
realized how many had come. During the
winter they hid round the barn and sheds and
did not trouble the Chickadees and Downy
Woodpeckers that came to the window for
suet. But with the first indication of spring
their aggressiveness began and they took
possession of the wood-pile where Chickadee
and Downy had liked to come. Later, when
the White Throated and White Crowned Spar-
rows came to us to rest a while on their way
to their nesting grounds, and would hop about
the door gathering the crumbs we had thrown
out for them, the European Sparrows com-
menced chasing them off. On one occasion
when a White Throat braver than the others
ventured near, the quarrelsome chattering of
the Sparrows brought us to the door, where we
discovered that they had simply surrounded
the unfortunate White Throat. We scattered
the chattering mob and White Throat took
refuge in the barberry hedge, and from there
made his escape, but it was some time before he
ventured to the door again.
We could only promise the White Throats
and all the others that we would see to it that
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
another year these ill-mannered birds would
not be there to torment them.
“Easier said than done!” said some one who
heard our solemn vow to the bird world. And
this we, too, learned before the summer was
over.
Their next victims were the Chipping Spar-
rows hopping about the door for crumbs, and
when Mrs. Chippie began to build in the bar-
berry hedge, it required constant watchfulness
to keep them from tearing down her nest or
throwing out her eggs.
All this was a small matter compared with
the trouble they caused at the nest boxes. The
little Wren houses they could not enter, the
opening to admit Jenny being too small for
them, so they had to content themselves by
sitting on top waiting for her to return from
the south so that they could keep her from en-
tering. They had a long wait, for Jenny is a
late comer. She is an adept at dodging the
Sparrows when she does come, moreover, she is
equal to fluffing out her feathers, thus doubl-
ing her size, and scolding Mr. Sparrow with
much vigor, so we did not need to worry about
her. Besides she has been here long enough
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
to know that the humans in the house will back
her up in anything she does.
But the Bluebird houses and the Purple
Martin house were a different matter, as the
Sparrows could go in through the entrances of
these. It is said that if the nest boxes are
placed low enough the Sparrows will leave
them alone. Though these houses were placed
at various elevations, some as low as they could
be for the birds for which they were intended,
there was hardly one within sight of the barn
the Sparrows could get into that they did not
usurp and would have held had they not been
driven out or shot, though in many cases they
had paid no attention to them until some birds
had selected them. Frequently even after they
had chosen their own nesting site they would
hover round a nest box they did not want, ap-
parently just to keep away other birds.
Their “dog in the manger” attitude was most
noticeable with the Bluebirds. They tried
their best to drive them all away to the dangers
and uncertain nesting-sites of the country be-
yond. If a pair of Bluebirds came to examine
a nest-box, at once a group of Sparrows ap-
peared, and their quarrelsome chattering could
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
be heard everywhere. They contradicted the
theory that European Sparrows will not go far
from the barns. They were at the nest-boxes
down the drive, and even those on the elms
that lined the road. The Bluebirds in the
house by the barn held their own, although they
were new comers, but down the drive in a
house on a maple near the road, a pair were less
fortunate. They built their little nest inside of
the house, but before the first egg was laid the
Sparrows had worn out their patience. If the
Bluebirds left for but the shortest time the
Sparrows were in the nest-box and carrying
in coarse grasses for a nest of their own. They
would fly at the Bluebirds when they returned.
Finally the Bluebirds became completely dis-
couraged and with quiet dignity took their de-
parture, leaving the farm with one pair of
beautiful, useful birds less, and in their place a
pair of worthless nuisances.
We took the house down, finding inside the
dainty little nest Mrs. Bluebird had spent so
much care and labor upon, and we laid in wait
for the usurpers.
A pair of Green and Yellow Warblers trying
to nest in a barberry bush in the edge of the
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
lawn had a very similar experience, and there
were times when we feared the Swallows would
give up and leave. One pair had a specially
trying time, as the Sparrows remaining through
the winter had taken possession of their nesting
place when they returned in the spring. And
all this time constant efforts were being made
to get rid of the Sparrows.
This is one of the first and one of the most
persistent difficulties of those who try to attract
the birds, and it has discouraged many a young
bird lover, frequently causing him to give up
trying to attract the birds or furnishing nest
boxes for them, for he sees that his efforts are
merely increasing the number of European
Sparrows. It is a difficulty which must be
overcome if our native birds are to nest near
us.
Apart from this the European Sparrow is an
objectionable bird about the farms, for it de-
vours much grain in the barn and the fields, es-
pecially wheat, a product the country now can
ill afford to spare. A reliable ornithologist
states that a flock of fifty of these Sparrows will
eat a quart of wheat or its equivalent each day.
To rid the premises of European Sparrows
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
is not an easy undertaking and requires both
skill and perseverance. It is not work for chil-
dren or the inexperienced, but should be done
by those who know the birds, or serious mis-
takes may be made. Pulling down their nests
is seldom effectual, as they can have another of
the rough sort they build ready in a day or so.
The winter or very early spring, before the
other birds have come back, is the best time to
go about it. Poisoned grain is highly recom-
mended as a means of exterminating them, but
it is a means to which very few would care to
resort. It is a dangerous experiment, too, for
without the greatest care something might get
the grain for which it was not intended.
Some bird protectors have made the aston-
ishing assertion that they have been able to get
rid of these sparrows by giving them grain
soaked in strong whisky or brandy. One ob-
jection to this was aptly expressed by a nine-
year-old boy, who said that it might be all right
in town, where there was no place for the Spar-
rows to hide, but on the farms they would crawl
out of sight round sheds and barns and when
they were sober they would come out as good
as ever after their spree. It is not a dangerous
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
experiment. The nine-year-old boy tried it
and his little chipmunk got some of the whisky-
soaked grain and went on a three-day spree,
at the end of which it was back looking for
more. Those who advocated using the whisky,
however, declared that it caused the Sparrows
to leave the premises.
On the whole the shot gun has given the best
results and even if used after other birds have
come in the spring, they soon learn that it is
not being aimed at them.
If one succeeds in getting rid of the
European Sparrows a careful watch should be
kept for any that may happen to come from
other places, for if left alone they will soon in-
crease in numbers again.
It should always be remembered that man
is responsible for the presence of the European
Sparrow on this continent. Wherever man has
interfered with the distribution of nature some
harm has been the result. These Sparrows
were brought from Europe to the United States
about sixty-three years ago. So anxious were
some of the people of the United States to get
them that on one occasion as many as one
thousand birds were sent to Philadelphia in a
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
single lot. It is difficult to understand why the
Sparrows should have been imported, as there
is very good evidence that men were warned
against bringing them to this continent. Some
ornithologists believe they were confused with
the English Hedge Sparrow, which is a wholly
beneficial bird in its own country.
Probably the Sparrows were imported by
those who are always looking for something
new and give little thought to the possible re-
sults. In any case the bringing of this bird to
this country has wronged the faithful native
birds that are working so well for us. Had the
men who imported it not been altogether blind
to the results of their action, they must have
seen that it could never be classed as an in-
sectivorous bird, but was a hearty grain-eater
and would aggressively take possession of
barns, sheds and stables and drive away native
birds. Moreover, they would have seen that
it multiplies more rapidly than any other bird,
sometimes raising from four to six broods in a
year, and each brood consisting of anywhere
from four to seven nestlings. In an astonish-
ingly short time it spread over all the United
States and Canada. And many a Swallow and
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Bluebird returning some cold spring day, weary
from the long, long fly from the south, found
the arrogant new-comers in possession of the
old nest or nesting-place and were obliged to
go off into the wilderness, where there was no
protection from their natural enemies.
Since man has brought this trial into our
bird world, already filled to overflowing with
difficulties, it is man’s duty to endeavor to re-
move it. Bird lovers who are doing a little to-
wards keeping these Sparrows in check are
helping to bring peace to the native birds, that
by right is theirs.
There is this to be said for the European
Sparrows. They are not to blame for being
here. They are not natives of this country of
long, cold winters. Perhaps this has made
them more aggressive and troublesome than in
their native land.
[188]
CHAPTER XXI
ATTRACTING THE BIRDS BY FOOD, WATER AND
NESTING MATERIAL
THOUGH safety is the greatest attraction
that birds can have, they do not know
at once that a certain place will be safe
for them. Only time convinces them of that.
They can readily be attracted, however, by
food, water and nesting material. The food
must not fail them when the natural supply is
cut off, drinking fountains where they can
bathe and quench their thirst must never be
dry, and the supply of nesting material, which
is often very difficult for them to obtain, must
be there when they need it.
As to the foods which attract different birds
one should be guided by experience. For the
insect-eating resident birds, such as Wood-
peckers and Chickadees, nothing is better or
easier to provide than a bit of suet in some
sheltered spot where they will be safe from cats
when feeding upon it. But for most birds
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the best sort of food and that which can always
be relied upon, for its being placed there is not
dependent upon the memory of some human
being, is the natural food for the birds, that
grows upon the ground or on bushes, or trees or
shrubs. Unfortunately, this is sometimes very
hard for the birds to obtain. The clearing of
the land has wiped out such bushes as sumac
and elderberry, and such vines as bittersweet
and the wild clematis that in old days filled
many of the fence corners, making these as well
as a haven of safety for the birds, an abundant
food supply which seldom failed. Some of the
berries were likely to hang on all winter, and
to be there when the migrating birds returned
in the spring, so that they could always fall
back upon them if they were overtaken by an
untimely storm and unable to get anything
else.
Bird lovers are beginning to realize the im-
portance of planting in their sanctuaries the
wild shrubs and vines that provide food for the
birds. Barberry bushes and mulberry trees are
two of the most attractive. The mulberries
ripening so gradually provide a dainty change
for the birds for many weeks, and the barber-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
ries hang on until the leaves are green in the
spring, and seed-eating birds will come to them
and feed upon the seeds in the berries when a
late snow storm has covered all other supply
of food.
One bird lover instituted what he called a
bird food tree, which was a great success. He
heated a certain amount of fat, putting in it
seeds and chopped nuts of different kinds,
then, selecting a small bushy evergreen, he
poured the mixture over it while it was still hot
and it congealed on the tree. The birds could
take from this whatever part of the food they
wished. The result was that many stayed to
nest near the food tree that had been such a
bonanza to them. It did not decrease the
value of the birds in the slightest; they went
about their work among the leaves, the branch-
es, or the trunks of the trees, or hunting in-
sects on the ground just as diligently as they
had done before, but it kept them working
near by. Such a food tree in every sanctuary
would attract valuable birds to the sanctuary
and might save the lives of many. The winter
birds which are always at the mercy of the ele-
ments, are very easily chilled when they can-
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
not get food, and the migrating birds coming
early are often overtaken by storms that clear
the air of insects, or freeze the ground for days
at a time so they cannot get enough to keep
them alive.
Studying bird life, one finds that in their
natural state the small ponds and streams at-
tract the nesting birds. Every year it has be-
come more difficult for birds to find safety and
a nesting place where there is any chance of
getting either a drink or a bath. With the
clearing away of the woods, springs and
streams have dried up, and the larger rivers
that have survived the change flow through the
towns or the farm lands, and the trees on their
banks are becoming few and far between.
Swallows always choose in preference a barn
beside which there is a spring where they can
drink and bathe and get the mud with which
to plaster their nests. It was their apprecia-
tion of the spring at one of the barns that made
us think of supplying a drinking fountain.
Our first attempt in this direction was a pan
of water in the middle of a nasturtium box on
the lawn ; and here the birds flew in among the
flowers and drank and splashed. The Peewee
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
and the Song Sparrow, the Goldfinch and the
Robin and the Catbird bathed there, and the
whole family of Flickers, one after the other.
When they had finished with their baths all the
water was splashed out. With just this one
little pan we could not keep them supplied.
They would have it empty before we were up
in the morning, and most birds wanted to bathe
morning, noon and night. Then we considered
how we could make for them a more permanent
bath. One day, when walking among the old
stumps and fallen logs on the flats beside the
bush, a bright idea came to us. Why not take
one of those big stumps and stand it upside
down? The root ends extending out would
make perches of all sizes, and the centre could
be hollowed out and lined with cement so that
we would have a very natural drinking foun-
tain that would not leak. Here the birds could
splash to their heart’s content, and then dry
and sun their feathers on the perches about it.
So a stump was selected and brought up to the
lawn. The drinking fountain made in this way
won the immediate approval of the feathered
tribe.
In making a drinking fountain it should be
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
formed so that there are different depths of
water; a small bird would not bathe in the
water required for a large bird. Little shallow
places at the edge should always be left for the
small birds, while the centre might be several
inches deep, in which such birds as the Flicker
would not hesitate to enter. The surface
should not be too smooth, as that would make
it slippery. Where it is lined with cement this
should be left a little rough.
A very satisfactory drinking fountain has
been made by hollowing out the top of a bit of
tree trunk that had been left a couple of feet
high when one of the shade trees had been cut
out. Some prefer to make the drinking foun-
tains on the ground, but such a drinking foun-
tain should never be among shrubs or long
grass, as a cat might come up unseen and
spring upon the birds when their plumage was
drenched and heavy. A drinking fountain
never fails to increase the number of birds that
nest about the house.
Food and drink are not all that the birds re-
quire. Simple as their wants are, they must
have something more than that, if the babies
are to be housed in comfort. It was not many
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
springs ago that a Robin spent one long morn-
ing tugging at the fringe that edged a towel on
the clothes line. The next year their wants
were anticipated, and a supply of nesting ma-
terial put out. Shop twine, cut in small pieces,
cotton batting, and bits of wool are readily
gathered up. The wood-pile is the place they
seem to like best to come for their nesting ma-
terial. Quite by accident some string was
thrown out there, and while at breakfast the
next morning, we watched an Oriole tugging
and pulling at a long piece that had twisted
around a knot on a bit of apple wood. It got
it off at last and flew away with one end of the
string in its beak, the other floating away be-
hind it. After that strings and bits of paper
were put on the wood, and a fresh supply had
to be put out every few days in the nest-build-
ing season. The arrival of a flock of sheep was
a great help to the birds, for nothing could give
a warmer lining to their nests than the wool
shed on bush and fence. One hot day in June,
a Robin was seen carrying great beakfuls of
wool from the barnyard up to her nest in the
aspen. She had been unfortunate in her first
nest and was obliged to build again, and lined
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N
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
her second nest with wool, even though the
summer weather had come. It is really very
difficult for birds to find the nesting materials
they need, and where this is supplied to them
they are sure to make their homes in greater
numbers than they would do otherwise.
Food, drink, and a bit of string with which to
weave their nests are very simple wants indeed,
and he who supplies them for the birds will be
repaid many times over.
[196]
Nest box attached to board and nailed to tree. (Page 197 )
Roof, with plug to hold it in place. (Page 191.)
Nest box, with straight hollow. (Page 193.)
Nest box in Pig. 2, with roof adjusted. (Page 191.)
1.
2.
3.
4.
CHAPTER XXII
HOW TO MAKE AND HANG NEST BOXES
KNOWING the difficulty birds that nest
in hollow trees have in finding nesting
places, one realizes that unless they are
helped in some way they will be forced to leave
altogether. Fortunately, with very little
trouble, nest boxes sufficiently like their natu-
ral nesting places can be supplied to them.
Every year it is more and more impressed
upon us that this is the only way to keep these
birds with us. Great pleasure and profit will be
derived from this means of inducing the birds
to come near us and make our gardens and
orchards and fields take the place of the woods
and swamps of long ago.
In order to make nest boxes with success one
must study the natural homes of the birds and
the surroundings they most desire. To induce
the birds to inspect the nest boxes these should
appear as much as possible like their natural
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
homes, and the interiors should be like them
or the birds will not remain and nest in them.
Painted decorations should never be used.
Birds that do not build a nest inside the trees
but burrow in the decaying wood, their peck-
ings forming a soft lining, are more difficult for
the inexperienced landlord to supply with ac-
ceptable nest boxes.
Here we have found that a cross section of a
cedar log or apple wood, that is the large limbs
cut off in pruning time, that had decayed in
the centre, is the best thing out of which to
make them. The section of log can be split
in order to bore out the hollow. This should
be shaped like a flask, rather pointed at the
bottom, but filled in with some sawdust, an
inch or more deep, according to the bird it is
intended for. A Flicker should have about
three inches of sawdust, but a smaller Wood-
pecker does not require quite so much. The
entrance for the Flicker should be two and a
half inches in diameter, while for a Wood-
pecker two inches is sufficient. The burrow
should be deep enough below the entrance so
that a cat can not reach her paw down to the
nest.
BIRDS OF PEASE MARSH
The top of the section of log should be cut
with a slope, and the entrance for the bird
made under the lower side. A piece of weather-
beaten board makes a very good roof. Project-
ing over the entrance it will slope downwards
and carry off the rain. If the cavity goes down
to the bottom of the nest box a floor of board,
like the roof, can be nailed on; this will allow
sufficient drainage, but where the cavity does
not go the full length of the cross section and
no drainage through the box is possible, a little
more sawdust should be supplied.
We have learned by experience that a roof
that can be lifted up so that the nest box can
be inspected, is a great advantage. If birds re-
fuse to nest a second time in a nest box the
cause is sometimes found by examining it. In
one case a decayed egg was the reason. By lift-
ing off the roof this could easily be discovered
and removed. Sometimes wasps get in and
their nests need to be cleared out. Last sum-
mer a young Bluebird died in one of the boxes.
The old ones removed it themselves, but had
they not been able to do so they could not have
nested there another year, unless it had been
discovered and removed. So there are many
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
advantages in a removable roof. Small
hinges at the back and a hook in front so the
roof will raise like a trap door, can be used, but
fastened thus it will not always remain per-
fectly tight, as high winds frequently loosen
hook or hinges. We have found that a plug
that just fits into the excavation at the top of
the nest box, fastened under the roof, is the
simplest and most satisfactory way of holding
the roof down.
Flask shaped excavations are not easy to
make and require special machinery and much
labor. Fortunately the birds can be induced to
do the work for themselves, and their beaks are
the best of tools, if the wood is suitable. A sec-
tion of an old log, decayed in the centre, can be
cut in the same way, and an opening for the
bird’s entrance started in it. It can then be
hung on a tree in place of a finished nest box.
The Flickers, if they find other requirements
desirable, will burrow it out to suit themselves.
The idea of trying this experiment came after
examining an old apple tree they had been
working on. They evidently thought, from the
decayed spot at the top, that the trunk was de-
cayed all the way down the centre, and had
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
commenced making an opening. For hours a
bird would remain stationary on the tree work-
ing at the hard apple wood. They had bored in
almost two inches when, finding the wood still
perfectly firm, they gave up. As the boys said,
they knew now it was not rotten all the way
down the centre and that they could not bur-
row out a nest. When birds will start boring
into an apple tree upon so slight an indication
of a possible nest, they would readily bore into
a piece of cedar log, if an opening is started so
that they can see the rotten centre, and burrow
out their own nest, in which they will be very
much at home. Our Flickers refused to nest in
nest boxes we bought as an experiment, though
they examined them. Nor would the Blue-
birds, or even the Wrens nest in them. The
Wrens filled one of them with dead leaves, but
live in it they would not. As the Wrens are so
adaptable, it must have been because more na-
tural houses were available.
The most successful bird houses we have had
have been those made out of cedar logs or apple
wood, and the flask-shaped cavity is usually a
first choice, even with Bluebirds and Tree
Swallows that build nests inside the houses.
[201]
BIRDS' OF PEASEMARSH
But such a cavity is not necessary, for these
birds will build their nests in houses which are
hollowed straight down. The house in figure
3 in illustration was made in this way.
Our first Bluebird house was just a small
grocery box, over which the boys tacked bark
to cover the newness of the wood and give it a
more natural appearance. The birds nested in
it the first summer, but the following spring,
when houses made of hollow apple wood were
put up, they removed to one of those. Hav-
ing studied the birds since then, we fear they
were very uncomfortable and unsafe in that
first house, and hard-pushed for a nesting place
to have accepted it at all. It was draughty and
hung on the tree up among the branches where,
when the leaves came out, it was in perpetual
shade, and the entrance was big enough to have
admitted a squirrel or a small cat.
If the houses for these birds are made of
boxes they should be firmly held together, with
no draughty corners. The opening for the
Bluebird should be not less than an inch and
a half in diameter. This is the size always
given, though we have found that just a trifle
[202 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
over is more satisfactory. As someone has
suggested, the Georgian Bay air may make the
Bluebirds a bit plumper. For the Wren, just an
inch and a quarter is sufficient.
Of all birds Jenny Wren is the easiest to suit
with a home. She has nested here in boxes of
various shapes and sizes, from houses made
from sections of hollow wood, to little tin cans,
simply fastened up, with the proper openings
made in them. One little Wren house had a
chimney on the top, and the father bird de-
lighted so in singing on the chimney that a
long lath was nailed up at another nest box,
and an hour later the Wren living in that
house was perched on the top of it singing at
the top of his voice.
Once we made a sad mistake. Pet, the Shet-
land pony, had just been clipped and somebody
thought that the thick, long black hair would
be just the thing for the birds to line their nests
with, and accordingly put a handful of it in
several of the nest boxes. The birds declined
to locate in those houses. One very quaint
little wren house, made out of a bit of hollow
pump log and fastened against the stone wall,
contained a little bit of it. The house and loca-
[ 203 ]
o
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
tion were ideal. But that hair! It was ex-
amined by no less than three pairs of Wrens.
They seemed to consult among themselves
about it and then they went away. Evidently
the birds took these houses that contained the
hair to be the haunt of some little animal of
uncertain character and were afraid to occupy
them. So we learned that if birds wish to use
hair off any animal they prefer to carry it in
themselves. They know then that the owner
of the hair is not coming back to claim the
house and perhaps devour their offspring.
If the property where the birds are being
provided for has not an abundance of trees and
bushes of all sorts, where the Robins would be
sure to find proper branch formations for their
nests, shelves could be put up for them. Our
experience has been that they prefer proper
branch formations, of which there are an
abundance here. If shelves are made they
should be at least six inches wide, and if placed
under the edge of a roof they should not be too
close to it. If they have roofs of their own it
is important to make these high enough, for
when feeding the nestlings the birds stand on
the edge of the nest and sometimes have the
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
head raised, as the young will stretch up their
necks for the food when they know the mother
is coming. The roof, like all bird house roofs,
should slant and project to keep out the storm.
Smaller shelves can be supplied for the
Phoebes, unless there are plenty of nesting
places for them.
In choosing locations for nest boxes and in
hanging them, the taste and requirements of
the birds must also be considered if one wishes
to have success. The Flickers like to be in the
orchard or along the edge of the orchard. The
Woodpeckers here prefer the edge of the
orchard, or the edge of the bush below the
orchard bank. Bluebirds will be at home
round the farm buildings or the house, es-
pecially if there be an old orchard and stretch
of uncut grass close at hand. The Chickadees
have been most at home in the trees at the edge
of the swamp, though they spend much time in
the orchard, which is only a short fly from the
swamp, and some nest in the orchard. The
Tree Swallows prefer to be near a spring, and
the little Wrens will come as close to the house
as they possibly can.
Various means may be used to fasten the
[ 205 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
houses to the trees. They may be nailed on a
board projecting above and below, and the
board nailed to the tree. Another way is to
put a strong hook in the tree and a ring on the
top of the bird house and simply hang it to the
hook. A small hook at the bottom will keep
the house from shaking.
If the branch or tree trunk, to which the
house is attached, bends in the slightest the
house must be hung on the under side. By
observing the natural holes of the birds one
finds that they never slope upwards, as this
would let in the rain and sun. Some are on a
perpendicular trunk, but if it slopes they are
always on the under side. A house hung with
the opening facing upwards would probably
remain unoccupied.
The particular places on the tree trunks
where the houses are to be hung should be
chosen while the foliage is on the trees, other-
wise when the leaves come out they may be too
shaded. Birds require an exposed, or partly
exposed tree trunk, where they have plenty of
sun and air. The hollow trees of their natural
homes are dead, or partly dead, and the foliage
never very thick. A post or pole near trees is
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
one of the best locations for a nest box, and is
usually easier to protect than a tree.
The bird landlord must not forget to protect
the trees on which the nest boxes are hung, so
that cats, squirrels, weasels or other four-
footed enemies of the birds cannot run up to
the boxes. A very easy way of doing this is to
put a piece of tin round the tree trunk. If
fastened to the tree in the form of a cone quite
a small piece of tin will answer the purpose.
This should be high enough so that a four-
footed creature could not jump from the
ground to the trunk above the tin. The trees
thus protected should stand apart from others,
so that a squirrel could not reach a box by
jumping over from another tree.
[207 ]
CHAPTER XXIII
NESTING SITES
WE have seen how much the birds that
nest in hollow trees have been affect-
ed by the clearing of the land, but the
birds that nest in trees and bushes, and even
those nesting on the ground have found great
difficulty in obtaining such a spot as they re-
quire to build their homes and rear their
families. Dozens of incidents among these
birds show how much they are in need of suit-
able nesting places. One in particular was
told by an old gentleman, a pioneer of early
days, who had lived many a summer with the
birds. The story was of a pair of Robins that
could not find the particular formation of
branches that would give them a suitable crotch
in which to weave their nest. Not far away
was a station yard in which scraps of binder
twine were being thrown about. Back and
forth the Robins flew, carrying this twine to a
[ 209 ]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
particular spot, where a rake handle rested in
the branches of a willow tree. The strong
twine thus secured was then woven with in-
finite care in and out between rake handle and
branches, and over this foundation of binder
twine the nest was built. Mrs. Robin did the
building, but Mr. Robin stayed near, fought
away the European Sparrows, and saw that she
was not disturbed. The old gentleman speci-
ally liked to tell that when the rake was needed
his wife said he might buy or borrow, but dis-
turb the Robin he should not.
We look about at the trees and naturally
think the birds have plenty to nest in, but if
we knew more of the requirements of the birds
we should understand that if they are not in a
certain place, it is because for some reason it
is not suitable for them. Possibly they cannot
get the branch formations they require, or the
shelter or the privacy they need, or they would
be too far away from water or from food. A
successful bird landlord must study the con-
ditions the birds require. The cutting down
and pruning of trees, the clearing away of
bushes and shrubs, the removing of the old rail
fences and the overgrown fence corners has de-
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
prived many of the birds of nesting places, or
the necessary surroundings for their homes.
Every year several pairs of Orioles have
nested here, and they are seldom known to
hang their nests on any tree except an elm,
though they have a choice of numerous kinds
of tall trees. There seems to be something in
the way the high branches of the elms curve
over at the tip that answers the requirements
of these birds.
Unfortunately these graceful trees are not
so numerous in some country places as they
were. The idea seems to have spread among
some people that they are in some way detri-
mental. They will tell you most positively that
the elms take all the moisture out of the ground
for an astonishing distance round about, and
that if they grow along the road-side they will
spoil the crop half way across the field, or give
other objections equally absurd. And so where
the land has passed into the hands of those less
intelligent and less experienced, the elms have
decreased in number. These beautiful trees,
left by the pioneers for their shade and their
protection, have in recent years been cut down
to an alarming extent by the more ignorant of
[211] f
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the land owners, who do not know the injury
they are doing to themselves and to those about
them, and to those who come after them.
The very fact that the elms attract the
Orioles should be in itself enough to save them.
These birds are friends which farmer and fruit
grower cannot afford to lose. Living as they
do almost altogether on leaf-eating insects and
caterpillars, they probably destroy more of the
moths that lay the eggs in the trees than any
other bird. Unfortunately, however, they are
not very numerous. Possibly the decreasing
number of suitable trees on which to hang their
marvelously woven nests has much to do with
this. To preserve the elms and supply the birds
with nesting material might help to bring them
back in greater numbers.
The decreasing number of sheltering elms,
the Oriole’s chosen nesting place, is significant
of the difficulties that other birds have in find-
ing the trees in which to nest. Preserving
groups of trees and groups of bushes at differ-
ent places on the farm will do much towards
increasing the number of birds. One tree
standing alone, or one solitary bush is blown
about by the wind, giving no shelter from
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
storm, and a nest built there is exposed to the
view of the bird enemies. The winds and the
prying eyes of bird nesters are the very things
from which the birds require protection.
The extensive cultivation of the country has
interfered much with the birds that nest on the
ground. In many places it is difficult for them
to find the tall rank grass that shelters them,
or the stumps and stones beside which they like
to make their homes. Those that nest in the
meadows are in constant danger from agricul-
tural implements, or from the trampling of the
stock. Many accidents to the nestlings are un-
avoidable. But much might be done for their
preservation if some spot not necessary for
cultivation were left for them and the grass
allowed to grow tall and rank. In a surpris-
ingly short time the birds would learn that
this spot was safe and many would make their
homes there. Tall, rank grass or brush heaps,
are a great attraction to the Song Sparrow.
Here in the orchard when the brush, after
pruning, is piled in little heaps, it sometimes
happens that before they can be burned some
member of the Sparrow family is making a
home in one of them, and so that particular
[213]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
little brush heap must remain where it is all
summer.
The birds that nest in swamps and beside
the streams, have had the hardest time of all
these last few years. The pretty bits of bush
are disappearing, and with the going of the
trees, springs and streams and marshes are dry-
ing up. In some cases this land is useless for
agriculture and becomes only an exposed bed
of weeds, where once among the ferns and
grasses and fallen leaves the Woodcock or the
Crane, or our favorite, To-whit To-whee, made
their homes and reared their families.
The value of the birds as insect destroyers,
their beauty and their cheerful songs are well
worth the preservation of the nesting places
that bring them back spring after spring from
their far-away winter homes.
When the maples and elms and willows and
aspens have been left for the birds one might
consider the pruning of shrubs and shade trees,
so that they will grow in such a way as to pro-
vide the branch formations that the birds need.
Just by accident one way of doing this was dis-
covered. The top branches of some of the apple
trees had been cut back, the next year a little
[214]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
circle of suckers had grown up from the cut-
back ends, and the pruning of them that spring
was neglected. When the leaves were off in the
autumn we saw that in places where this
branch formation occurred Robins had built
their nests. We tried this with a chestnut tree
beside the window and soon had a happy
Robin’s family.
Much can be done to help the birds by tying
branches of shrubs and bushes in such a way
that they will form foundations for the nests,
and if some corner on the farm is left where
sprouts of trees and shrubs grow up at their
own sweet will, it will be a boon to some rare
birds. In a little thicket here left for that pur-
pose, we knew the Indigo Finch was nesting,
for we had seen his mate carrying in nesting
material, but not until the leaves were off did
we see the nest on a little cross branch of a
locust sprout, not two feet from the ground.
Such a branch formation so near the ground,
where there is plenty of surrounding cover, is
readily accepted by these birds.
A thicket of shrubs, especially if old stumps
and tree trunks are there and the grass left
uncut, is a great attraction to all birds. It is a
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
real help to the small birds that nest on the
ground, and a means of keeping them at our
very door. To-whit To-whee always likes a
fallen log or stump beside which to make his
nest. Many other members of that family,
and members of the invaluable Warbler family,
would readily nest in such a spot. On one farm
the Whip-poor-will always chose the rhubarb
bed on which to lay her eggs, probably finding
that the large leaves of the rhubarb gave the
privacy and moisture of the woodland.
The birds that want a swampy home, pre-
ferably beside some pond or stream, are the
most difficult to help. Their troubles are a plea
for the preservation of the bushes that grow
along the streams, in the swamps and on the
hillsides. We cannot bring back those cool,
shady places that have gone, but we can do
what we can to induce the owners to leave what
remain to the birds.
The birds that nest in swamps have had
more difficulties in obtaining nesting places
than the shore birds, for the shores have not
been deprived as yet of so much of their natu-
ral condition, and the old nesting places on a
sheltered beach have not all disappeared. But
[216]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
unfortunately they are not so safe as they were
before the days of motor cars and motor boats.
More seclusion and greater protection is the
best help that these birds can be given.
1.
1
3.
4.
Father Bluebird at nest box. (Page 52.)
The Bittern on her nest. (Page 115.)
Baby Mourning Doves. (Page 100.)
Baby Bluebird the day it came out of
nest box in Fig. 1. (Page 54.)
PHOTOS FROM THE SANCTUARY
CHAPTER XXIV
BIRD SANCTUARIES AND BIRD CLUBS
IT is remarkable how many prospective
Sanctuary owners disregard altogether the
tastes and simple requirements of the
would-be feathered tenants. Only yesterday
an individual was talking glibly of his plans for
a newly acquired possession, a few acres of land
along the shore, where hitherto the trees and
bushes, the vines and reeds and waving grasses
had grown in wild profusion. Among them
many a bird had found cover, food and home.
Now the new owner dilated on what he would
do to this spot of rare beauty. He would cut
those reeds and vines and all the tall, waving
grass ; he would trim the over-hanging branches
of the trees. But his crowning triumph was to
be at the mouth of the stream. It was where
the Bitterns and Cranes and Herons had fished
from time immemorial. Kingfisher nested in
[219]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
the bank, and Redwing in the overhanging
bushes. The new owner would cut away those
bushes, alter the bank completely, and make
the place a harbour for motor launches.
“And then,” he added, with a triumphant
wave of his hand, “we will have it made a Bird
Sanctuary.”
It would indeed require a printed notice to
show for what the place was intended. The
birds would not weave their nests in those poor
trees trimmed to spindling proportions. The
shy Blue Heron would not come to live where
pleasure launches had taken the place of reeds
and bushes. The world of arrogant humans
might say he had improved the place, but the
wild things would go. As a bird sanctuary it
would be as desolate as the house when the
wedding guests were gone.
Very different is a real bird sanctuary, with
its cool, shady retreats, its sheltering bushes
and its profusion of dogwood and sumacs. It
needs no printed notice to make known its pur-
pose, hundreds of feathered songsters will pro-
claim its name. A visit there is an inspiration.
Birds have nesting places, they have learned
they are safe and that the food supply will not
[220]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
run out, and so they have returned spring after
spring, bringing others with them.
To obtain success, however, a sanctuary,
when once established, should be carefully
guarded. It is just as important to retain as
it is to gain the confidence of the birds. The
experience here shows that every sanctuary
should be ' established on a permanent basis.
Increasing the number of birds will increase
the number of bird enemies, unless these are
constantly kept down. To attract birds to any
spot and then, when they have learned to know
the spot as a haven of safety, to cease to give
them the protection which made it safe, may
result in more loss of bird life than if the
sanctuary had never been established.
Much as one sanctuary in a district can do,
it has its limitations. The birds do not know
the boundary of the sanctuary and accidents
may befall them when they are beyond its
limits or passing on in their migratory flight.
Especially has this been the case with game
birds, numbers of which have so often been
shot when passing on from a sanctuary where
they have fed and rested. A line of sanctuaries
that provide food and resting places for birds in
[221]
BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
migrating would be a great factor in the pre-
servation of migratory game birds. The ex-
perience of sanctuary owners proves that the
birds readily learn that certain places are safe
for them.
On the Miner farm in Essex County,
Ontario, the most remarkable Wild Goose
sanctuary on the continent, many hundreds of
Geese come every April and rest on their jour-
ney to the north. Inside the sanctuary limits
even a stranger may walk within a few feet of
them without alarming them, but out on the
lake, just two miles away, a boat could not get
within half a mile of one of those Geese. On
the lake they know they may be shot, but they
have learned that inside the sanctuary they are
always protected. It seems that birds must
have some means of communication with other
species, for during a spring migration while the
Geese were resting there a flock of wild Swans
flew over and circled round. It was as if the
Geese had told them of their haven of safety
and they had come to see it for themselves.
In choosing a place for a sanctuary where
large, rare birds or game birds are to be at-
tracted, it is important that it should have the
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
natural conditions that the birds require. Some
birds have grown so suspicious of man that a
sanctuary for them must be in a very solitary
spot, at least until the birds have learned that
they are being protected. Mr. W. E. Saunders,
in a paper read before the Committee of Con-
servation, made the wise suggestion that places
where these rare birds are found to be nesting
should be made sanctuaries. In speaking of
the Great Blue Heron and the Pelican, he says,
“Some birds do not like people to make a fuss
about them, and that refers particularly to
large wild birds, on whom human friendship is
suddenly thrust. I had a remarkable experi-
ence along that line in Alberta. On a small
island in Miquelon Lake, twelve miles north of
Camrose, there were two hundred breeding
pairs of White Pelicans. The Pelican, a bird
about the size of an Eagle, is not accustomed
to human interference. I visited the island
with a friend and saw these two hundred nests,
but the birds left the island before we landed
and did not return for about an hour or two
after we left. My companion was an enthusi-
astic ornithologist and bird protectionist, and
his next door neighbor was the local M.L.A.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Through his influence that island was declared
a bird reserve and the nearest farmer a game
warden, his duty being to see that the birds
were not molested. He visited the island prac-
tically every day and the birds resented it so
much that, since that year, there has not been a
Pelican on the island. That shows that we
must be careful in our attitude towards some
of the wild birds.
“The Great Blue Heron used to nest in com-
munities, and, while it does to a certain extent,
the communities are very small. There is one
heronry near London with about twenty odd
nests. How it has escaped so long I do not
know, because we have so many irresponsible
people who do not think, whose impulse is to
slaughter, and who go out with .22 rifles into
a heronry just to see how many Herons they
can kill. Then, of course, the eggs rot or the
young starve to death. ... I do not see why
it should not be possible to declare such places
as heronries bird sanctuaries where guns would
not be allowed, where special penalties would
be enforced on any person going with a gun.
As a rule the few places in which these heron-
ries now exist are places where the neighbors
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
are favorable to the birds because, if that
were not so, they would not have lasted nearly
so long.”
But even these shy birds may become un-
afraid of man, though it may take years to es-
tablish their confidence, for to what the birds
once were they will return. The Pelican has
been persecuted by man, and being a bird of
rare intelligence, distrust of human beings has
descended from generation to generation.
When the white man first came to the country
and firearms were unknown, the feathered
creatures were not easily alarmed. Records of
the early explorers show that of the large birds,
some already extinct, some now the shyest and
the rarest, showed not the slightest alarm at
the approach of man, some even crowded about
them and exhibited considerable curiosity and
interest in the newcomers. This confidence
can be regained. Individuals can do a little,
but without co-operation there is danger of
much of their work being undone.
The sanctuaries and bird clubs together can
readily increase the bird population and save
from extinction those large, rare birds that are
already going. The sanctuary will give a safe
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
home to the birds that remain to nest, and a
resting place to those that pass on to nest
farther north, and the bird club will protect
the birds beyond the sanctuary gates. But the
bird club must not be confined, it should be
broad and far-reaching as the land where birds
abound. A bird club that remains a small
society composed of its founders and their
friends, or those whom they wish to have as
members, cannot do any great amount of good.
And as the largest proportion of birds are
found on the farms, active bird clubs should
have an active farm membership.
A wide system of bird clubs could be made a
very complete factor in the protection of our
birds. Such a system should be international,
otherwise the birds might be protected in one
country and decreased in numbers in another.
If such a society had its headquarters in some
large centre, with a branch in each county,
which had still smaller branches in each town-
ship or locality, these branches including bird
societies of the school children, and each so-
ciety pledged to protect the desirable birds,
giving them shelter, nesting places, food where
necessary, and protection from their enemies,
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
including Crows and Blackbirds and cats ; and
each society also pledged to make reports to
their central branch, which in turn would re-
port to the International Centre, a very great
deal might be accomplished and some sys-
tematic record kept of the work for the birds
and its results.
No bird could then decrease very rapidly in
numbers without this being known at the
centre of the bird protection work and prompt^
far-reaching measures could be taken to pre-
vent it from vanishing from the earth.
[227]
CHAPTER XXV
“little feathered brothers”
MUCH as the birds have done to guard
the products of the country, they have
rendered a still greater service to the
world. They have a value that cannot be
weighed by abundant crops or verdant woods.
It reaches beyond material things. From the
earliest times the birds of the air have been an
inspiration to the human race. Their influence
has come down through the ages.
Before the days of the white man the Indians
watched and marvelled at the ways of their
“little feathered brothers,” and the influence of
the birds upon them is shown in their legends
and in the speeches of many of their great
chiefs.
The influence of the birds upon the white
man on this continent dates back from the first
voyage of Columbus. Had it not been for the
land birds that passed them his discouraged
men might have forced him to turn back when
almost ip sight of land.
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
How it must have cheered Jacques Cartier in
the strange New World to find, as he tells in
his relations of his voyages, “Cranes, Swans,
Wild Geese (white and gray) , Ducks, Thrush-
es, Blackbirds, Turtles, Wild Pigeons, Finches,
Redbreasts, Nightingales, Sparrows and other
birds, even as in France.”
When Sir John Franklin was on his last
journey overland to the Arctic, he wrote of
their delight at the return of Swans, Ducks and
Geese, giving the first indications of spring
after the long, cold, dark winter they had been
forced to spend in the northland. When
travelling down the Coppermine River, almost
within sight of the northern ocean, he was
serenaded by the many birds that were going
to their nesting places. On July 11, he men-
tions in his diary the Ducks and Snowbirds
that were nesting there, giving life to the dreary
wastes.
Frequently birds were invaluable guides to
the explorers travelling in an unknown
country. “Late in the evening, as we descried
the Ravens wheeling in circles round a small
group of poplars, and according to our expecta-
tion we found the Indians encamped there,”
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
Franklin tells of one occasion when to find the
Indians meant life to his party.
As guides birds have been perhaps of the
greatest service at sea. Many a fisherman
caught in a dense fog or a blinding storm
would have had no idea in which direction to
steer his craft had there not also been some
feathered fishers out that day; and no fog was
too heavy or storm too black to confuse their
sense of direction. No matter how far they
had gone out to sea they knew which way to
fly to their nests on the shore, and the poor lost
human’s craft could follow the birds to safety.
Though in these modern days when mile-
stones greet us at every turn and every craft
has its compass, we seldom require the services
of winged guides, but we need, as the world
will always need, the inspiration of their pres-
ence and their songs. Few there are who have
never gone out into the garden or the orchard
or the woods, sad and lonely and discouraged
and come back with fresh hope, fresh energy,
fresh joy because some tiny songster was pour-
ing forth in sweetest notes its message of en-
couragement to man.
Once in a mining country far away among
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
hills and rocks, where few birds came and went,
a group of men had gathered in a sheltered
nook. They were men who had staked their
little all and lost. The shadow of despair was
over them. They had no heart to face the
world. Then, suddenly, there poured forth from
the tree tops above them a bird’s song, sweet,
rich and joyous, a song they had last heard in
the gardens of their homes, a song that was
blended with every memory of their childhood
and every aspiration of their youth, and as
they listened it came to them that all the better
things of life were left to them. That glorious
song that had come so unaccountably in the
moment of their need, gave them back their
own.
Shelley calls the Skylark an embodied joy,
whose song is,
“Better than all measures of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures that in books are
found.”
Our own Bobolink has one peculiarity of the
English Skylark, it sings while it flies. Often
when walking through the meadow the song of
the Bobolink, like silver bells, comes down
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BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH
from over our head. And Bobolink sings his
“bob-o-link” in sweet, sweet notes that no
human being could imitate. The birds have
the soul of music. If the world were deprived
of this it would be deprived of one of its noblest
inspirations.
THE END.
[233]
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