Birds worth knowing

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Illustration of Snowy Owl by Louis Agassiz Fuertes

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BIRDS WORTH KNOWING

Tati A ssociati oer eties
National Association of Audubon Societies See page 2

uh
ROBIN

LITTLE NATURE LIBRARY

BIRDS
WORTH KNOWING

SELECTED BY THE AUTHOR FROM THE WRITINGS OF

NELTJE BLANCHAN

Bird Neighbors, Birds that Hunt and Are Hunted
(Game Birds), How to Attract the Birds,
Birds Every Child Should Know.

With sixteen illustrations in color

PUBLISHED BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
FOR
NELSON DOUBLEDAY, Inc.
1922

Copyright, 1917, by
Dousiepay, Pace & Company

All rights reserved, including that of
translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian

PRINTED IN THE UNITED 8TATES

THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, n. ¥.

PREFACE

AS SEVERAL hundred thousand readers have been kind
enough to approve the author’s four previous volumes on
birds, it has been suggested that a single volume might be
helpful, dealing with the birds most worth knowing and
chosen by the author from these writings with the view of
interesting an ever-widening circle of new friends in the
most appealing form of wild life there is still left about us.

An immense wave of interest in birds recently swept over
the country where less than a generation ago was complete
indifference to their extermination. Why this change of
the people’s thought? Largely as the logical result of per-
sistent and highly intelligent educative work by the
Audubon Societies, directed by scientific and altruistic men
and women, in reaching school children, clubs of many
kinds, granges, editors, and legislators. Vast quantities of
well-written pamphlets and beautiful colored pictures, such
as are used to illustrate this book, are distributed annually;
bird clubs are actively at work all over the country; Junior
Audubon classes graduate fresh recruits; wardens are safe-
guarding the breeding grounds of the egret, gull, tern, eider,
and other birds dangerously near the vanishing point;
bird sanctuaries have been established in countless parks,
cemeteries, private estates, and public domains; the mak-
ing of bird houses, fountains, and restaurants has suddenly
become a well-advertised business as well as a pastime for
every boy and girl who can handle a hammer; people are

v

vi PREFACE

planting trees, shrubs, and vines especially to attract birds
and they systematically feed them all winter; Audubon
field agents are lecturing, disseminating literature, button-
holing legislators, and looking out for the birds’ interests
generally in State and National Capitols, interests now
backed up by intelligent public opinion so strong as to
make the ultimate passage of protective laws in every state
of the Union a foregone conclusion.

The National Conscience was awakened by the demon-
stration of the birds’ vast economic value to the country;
and with the wide-spread interest now taken in birds as
important factors in our agricultural wealth comes a more
lively interest in them as neighbors. Indeed a more sane
and healthful and sympathetic view of all Nature follows
an introduction to the birds that play so important and de-
lightful a réle in the great moving picture constantly un-
rolling its scroll before our eyes. Every one should join
the National Association of Audubon Societies not only
because there are still some sections of this big country
where plucked robins are sold on skewers in the markets,
but because there is to-day no American who, consciously
or unconsciously, is not already in the Society’s debt.

NELTJIE BLANCHAN.
Oyster Bay, Long Island, N. Y., 1917.

CONTENTS

PREFACE i * @ s &€ « © = oe egs’ ¥
ListorInLusTRaATIONS . . . 1. w wee ey OX
CHAPTER I ;
WuatBirpsDororUs ...... » « « 38
CHAPTER II ,
Tue TarusH Famity . . oe ee RE
Bluebird; Robin; Wood Thrush; Vea
CHAPTER Ii
Some NeicHBorty ACROBATS ss. 32

Ruby-crowned and Golden-crowned Kinglet: Chicka-
dee; Tufted Titmouse; White-breasted Nuthatch; Red-
breasted Nuthatch

CHAPTER IV

A Famity Grovur or Livery SINGERS. . 42
Marsh Wren; House Wren: Carolina Wren; Brown.
Thrasher; Catbird; Mocking-bird

CHAPTER V

Tur WaRBLERS. . “ 55
Redstart; Yellow-breasted “Chat; ” Maryland Yellow-
throat; Oven-bird; Blackburnian Warbler; Chestnut-

vii

viii CONTENTS
PAGE

sided Warbler; Myrtle Warbler; Yellow Warbler; Black
and White Creeping Warbler

CHAPTER VI

Vireos or GREENLETS . . be. age oe, NEY
Red-eyed Vireo; White-eyed Vireo: "Yellow-throated
Vireo; Warbling.;Vireo

CHAPTER VII

BirpsNotoraFEeatHeR . . 77
Loggerhead Shrike; Northern: Shrike; ‘Cedar Wax.
wing; Scarlet Tanager; Summer Tanager

CHAPTER VEE
THe Swallows. . 87
Purple Martin; Barn Swallows Clif or Eyes Solow:
Bank Swallow; Tree Swallow
CHAPTER IX
Tur CoMPREHENSIVE SPARROW TRIBE AND SoME
orrrs Muutirupinous Kin. . 96

Indigo Bunting; Rose-breasted Grosbeak: ‘Cucdinnl:
Towhee; Junco; Snowflake; Fox Sparrow; Song Sparrow;
Swamp Sparrow; Field Sparrow; Chipping Sparrow;
Tree Sparrow; White-throated Sparrow; White-crowned
Sparrow; English Sparrow; Vesper Sparrow; Goldfinch;
Purple Finch

CONTENTS ix
CHAPTER X

Tue It1-aAssoRTED BLACKBIRD Famity . . . . 120
Bronzed and Purple Grackles, or Crow Blackbirds;
Rusty Blackbird; Baltimore Oriole; Orchard Oriole;
Meadowlark; Red-winged Blackbird; Cowbird; Bob-
olink

' CHAPTER XI
Two Rascatiy RELATIONS. ....- - - - . 183
Crow; Blue Jay
CHAPTER XII }
Tue FLYcATCHERS. . 138

Kingbird; Crested Flycatcher; Phoebe; Wood Pewee;
Least Flycatcher

CHAPTER XIII

Some QuEER RELATIONS . « « 47
Whippoorwill; Night-hawk; Chimney Swifts Ruby-
throated Humming-bird

CHAPTER XIV

CARPENTERSIN FEATHERS. . . . . 156
Flicker; Red-headed Weslpeckers Yellow-bellied
Woodpecker; Downy Woodpecker; Hairy Woodpecker

CHAPTER XV

KINGFISHER AND Cuckoos. . . . « 168
Belted Kingfisher; Yellow-billed and Black-billed
Cuckoos

x CONTENTS
CHAPTER XVI

Nicut anp DayGame Hunters . . . . 1%
Screech Owl; Barred Owl; Shorteared Owl; Long-
eared Owl; Barn Owl; Osprey; Sparrow-hawk; Bald
Eagle and Golden Eagle; Red-shouldered Hawk; Red-
tailed Hawk; Cooper’s Hawk and the Sharp-shinned
Hawk; Marsh Hawk; Turkey Vulture

CHAPTER XVII

Movurner, Martyr, WHISTLER AND DrumMER. . 201
Mourning Dove; Passenger Pigeon; Bob-white;
Ruffed Grouse

CHAPTER XVII:

Brirps oF THESHOREAND MarsHes . . . . . 213
Killdeer; Semi-palmated or Ring-necked Plover; Least
Sandpiper; Spotted Sandpiper; Woodcock; Sora and
Clapper Rails; Coot; Great Blue Heron; Little Green
Heron; Bittern

CHAPTER XIX

Tuer Fastest Firers, SWIMMERS, AND Divers . . 235
Canada Goose; Wild Ducks; Shoveler; Pintail; Herring
Gull; Loon

Conon'Kar. 2 . «+ © # + © © & » » S61

USE. a a ee eee. i A ewe ee es OE

{

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

BLUEBIRD . . . . . . « « .. « On Cover
Rosin’... .. .. . . . Frontispiece
Woop TurushH . . ...... ... «18
VOOR oe Sw ee a
CHICKADEE . . . . wee ee wl we RE

Turrep Titmouse. . . 1. ww ee ee
WHITE-BREASTED NuTHATCH . . . . . . . 94
Rep-preasstep NutwatcH . .... . =. 34
Brown THRASHER Pe a
Bononke 4 4s = « 2 @ «= S&S w w « 10
CHOW 4 ee Se OK. el me ME oe Ge: TD
Rupy-THROATED HUMMING-BIRD. . . . . . 146
WHIPPOORWILL. . - .- «© «© «© «© «© « « I47
Rurrep Grouse . . . . . + «© «© « « #10
SORA cs sk a aS ES Se Ee ES oe we BE
Snowy EqretT . 2. 2 6 6 ee ew ew we 2286
GREEN Heron a ne a ee ee ee ae

BIRDS WORTH KNOWING

BIRDS

CHAPTER I
WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US

In the quite sudden popular interest in nature recently
manifest, birds have come in for perhaps the lion’s share
of attention. Unlike most movements, this is an ab-
solutely new one in the history of the world, not a revival.
One might have thought that so intensely practical a
people as the Americans would have taken up economic
ornithology first of all, have learned with scientific cer-
tainty which birds are too destructive for survival and
which so valuable that every measure ought to be taken
to preserve and increase them. In reality, this has been
the last aspect of the subject to receive attention. First
came the classifiers—Wilson, Audubon, Baird, and Nut-
tall—the pioneers in systematic bird study. Thoreau
was as a voice crying in the wilderness. His books lay in
piles on the attic floor, unsold many years after his death.
It remained for John Burroughs to awaken the popular en-
thusiasm for out-of-door life generally and for birds par-
ticularly, which is one of the signs of our times.

_ Among the first acts passed in the Colonies were bounty
‘laws, not only offering rewards for the heads of certain birds
‘that were condemned without fair trial, but imposing fixed

8

‘4 BIRDS

fines upon the farmer who did not kill his quota each year.
Of course every man and boy carried a gun. The bounty
system did much to foster the popular notion that every-
thing in feathers is a legitimate target. Thus it is that

“The evil that birds do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.”

For two centuries and a half this systematic destruction
of birds, which blundered ignorantly along in every
colony, state, and territory, resulted in a loss to our agri-
culture whose colossal aggregate would “stagger human-
ity” if, indeed, our minds could grasp the estimated
figures in dollars and cents. Men now living among us
were absolutely the first to study the food of any one
species of bird through an entire year and in various sec-
tions of the country, and to pass scientific judgment upon
it only after laboratory tests of the contents of its stomach
—that final court of appeal. Through pressure~brought
to bear upon Congress by the American Ornithologists’
Union, the Department of Agriculture was authorized in
1885 to spend a ridiculously small sum to learn the posi-
tive economic value of birds to us, a branch of scientific
research now included under the Division of Biological
Survey. Until that year all the scientific work that was
done in this line could have been recorded in a very small
volume indeed.

A General Whitewashing

As might have been expected, when the white search-
light of science beats upon the birds, none, not even the
erow, appears as black as he has been painted. Only a

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 5

few culprits among the hawks and owls, and only one little
sinner not a bird of prey, stand convicted and condemned
to die. When it came to a verdict on the English sparrow,
after the most thorough and impartial trial any bird ever
received, every thumb, alas! was turned down. But hav-
ing proven itself fittest to survive in the struggle for
existence after ages of competition with the birds of the
Old World, being obedient to nature’s great law, it will defy
man’s legislation to exterminate it. Toilers in our over-
populated cities, children of the slums, see at least one bird
that is not afraid to live among them the year around.

One of the first good effects of the Government’s scien-
tific investigation of birds, and the consequent white-
washing of bird characters that ensued, was the with-
drawal of bounties by many states. Pennsylvania, for
instance, woke up to realize that her notorious “‘scalp act”
had lost her farmers many millions of dollars through the
ravages of field mice, because the wholesale slaughter of all
hawks and owls, regardless of their food and habits, had
been systematically encouraged. A little knowledge on
the part of legislators, backed by an immense amount of
popular ignorance and prejudice against all of the so-called
birds of prey, proved to be a very dangerous thing. Even
better than the withdrawal of bounties is the action taken
by many states to protect the birds. Instead of laying
stress upon only the apparent evil in nature, as undevel-
oped pagans did, we are at last putting the emphasis where
it rightly belongs—upon the good.

The Partition of Appetites

Whoever takes any notice of the birds about us cannot
fail to be impressed with the regulation of that department

6 BIRDS

of nature’s housekeeping entrusted to them. The labor
is so adjusted as to give to each class of birds duties as dis-
tinct as a cook’s from a chambermaid’s. One class of tire-
less workers is bidden to sweep the air and keep down the
very small gauzy-winged pests such as mosquitoes, gnats,
and midges. Swallows dart and skim above shallow
water, fields, and marshes; purple martins circle about
our gardens; swifts around the roofs of our houses, night-
hawks and whippoorwills through the open country, all
plying the air for hours at a time. Some, which fly with
their mouths open, need not pause a moment for refresh-
ments,

On distended upper branches, preferably dead ones, on
fence rails, posts, roofs, gables, and other points of vantage
where no foliage can impede their aerial sallies, sit king-
birds, pewees, phoebes, and kindred dusky, inconspicu-
ous flycatchers, ready to launch off into the air the second
an insect heaves in sight, snap it up with the click of a sat-
isfied beak, then return to their favorite look-out and pa-
tiently wait for another. This class of birds keeps down
the larger flying insects. For generations the kingbird
has been condemned as a destroyer of bees. Rigid inves-
tigation proves that he eats very few indeed, and those
mostly drones. On the contrary, he destroys immense
numbers of robber-flies or bee-killers, one of the worst
enemies the bee farmer has. The mere fact that the king-
bird has been seen so commonly around apiaries was
counted sufficient circumstantial evidence to condemn
him in this land of liberty. But after a fair trial it was
found that ninety per cent. of his food consists of insects
chiefly injurious: robber-flies, horse-flies, rose chafers, clover
weevils, grasshoppers, and orchard beetles among others.

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 7

The Care of Foliage:

To such birds as haunt the terminal twigs of trees and
shrubbery—the warbler tribe and the vireos, chiefly—was
assigned the duty of cleaning the foliage on the ends of
the branches, where many kinds of insects deposit their
eggs that their young may have the freshest; tenderest
leaves to feed upon. Some few warblers, in the great
family, confine their labors to the ground and under-
growth, it is true, and a few others pick their living out of
the trunks of trees, but they are the exceptions which
prove the rule. Countless millions of larvae, plant lice,
ants, cankerworms, leaf-hoppers, flies, and the smaller
caterpillars go to supply the tireless energy of these charm-
ing little visitors each time they migrate through our neigh-
borhood. Generally speaking, the vireos, or greenlets,
are less nervous and more deliberate and thorough in their
search than the warblers. Cocking their heads to one
side, they scrutinize the under half of the leaves where
insects have sought protection from just such sharp eyes as
theirs, as well as from rain and sun. After a warbler has
snatched a hasty lunch in any given place, the vireo can
follow him and find a square meal to be enjoyed at leisure.

But vireos and warblers, which are smaller than spar-
rows, however efficient as destroyers of the lesser insects,
~ would be powerless to grapple with the larger pests found
in the same places. Accordingly, another gang of larger
feathered workers helps take care of the foliage for that
most thorough of housekeepers, Dame Nature. Hidden
among the foliage of trees and shrubbery, an immense
army of feathered workers—many of our most beautiful
birds and finest songsters among them—serve her with-

8 BIRDS

out hire, and during longer working hours than any trades-
union would allow. Thrushes, bluebirds, robins, mock-
ingbirds, orioles, catbirds, thrashers, wrens, and tanagers
—these and many others keep up a lively insect hunt
throughout a long sojourn among us, coming when the
first insects emerge in the spring and not wholly giving
up the chase until the last die or become dormant with the
coming of winter. What could a little warbler do with
tent caterpillars, for example? But slim, large cuckoos
glide among the leafy branches and count themselves
lucky to enter a neighborhood infested by them. The
sudden appearance of a new insect pest often attracts
large numbers of birds not commonly seen in the neigh-
borhood. If dead or mutilated larvae of tent caterpillars
are seen near the torn tent it was probably opened by an
oriole, for the cuckoo does his work more thoroughly, leav-
ing no remains. The black-billed cuckoo has been an in-
valuable ally of the farmers in their herculean task of
destroying the gypsy moth, an alarming pest which, al-
though only recently introduced from Europe, has al-
ready laid waste large sections of New England. The
stomach of a single yellow-billed cuckoo examined con-
tained two hundred and seventeen fall web-worms! Hairs
have been considered a means of protection adopted by
many caterpillars. Most birds will not touch the hairy
kind. But cuckoos are not so fastidious. The walls of
their stomachs are sometimes as closely coated with hairs
as a gentleman’s beaver hat. Caterpillars are also the
most important item on the Baltimore oriole’s bill of fare,
of which eighty-three per cent. is insect food gleaned among
the foliage of trees. Click beetles, which infest every kind
of cultivated plant, and their larvae, known as wireworms,

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 9

destroy millions of dollars’ worth of farm produce every
year. Now, there are more than five hundred species of
them in North America, and the oriole, which eats them as
a staple and demolishes very many other kinds of beetles,
wasps, bugs, plant-lice, craneflies, grasshoppers, locusts,
and spiders, should win opinions as golden as his feathers
for this benefaction alone. It has been said that were all
the insects to perish, all the flowers would perish, too, which
is not half so true as that were all the birds to perish men
would speedily follow them. At the end of ten years the
insects, unchecked, would have eaten every green thing
off the earth!

The Birds That Have Charge of the Bark

For obvious reasons, then, many crawling insects hide
themselves under the scaly bark of trees or in holes
laboriously tunneled in decaying wood; others deposit
their eggs in such secret places. When they die a natural
death at the close of summer it is with the happy delusion
_ that the next generation of their species, sleeping in
embryo, is perfectly safe. But see how long it takes a
woodpecker to eat a hundred insect eggs and empty a
burrow of every grub init! Inspecting each crevice where
moth or beetle might lay her eggs, he works his way around
a tree from bottom to top, now stopping to listen for the
stirring of a borer under the smooth, innocent-looking bark,
now tapping at a suspicious point and quickly drilling a
hole where there is a prospect of heading off his victim,
Using his bill as a chisel and mallet and his long tongue as a
barbed spear to draw the grub from its nethermost hiding
place, he lets nothing escape him. Boring beetles, tree-
boring caterpillars, timber ants, and other insects which

10 BIRDS

are inaccessible to other birds, must yield their reluctant
bodies to that merciless barbed tongue. Our little friend
downy and the hairy woodpecker, the most beneficial
members of the family, the flicker that descends to the
ground to eat ants, the red-headed woodpecker that inter-
sperses his diet with grasshoppers, even the much-
maligned sapsucker that pays for his intemperate drinks
of freshly drawn sap by eating ants, grasshoppers, flies,
wasps, bugs, and beetles—to these common woodpeckers
and to their less neighborly kin, more than to any other
agency, we owe the preservation of our timber from hordes
of destructive insects.

But acknowledgment of this deep obligation must not
cause us to overlook the nuthatches, brown creepers,
chickadees, kinglets, and such other helpers that keep up
quite as tireless a search for insects on the tree trunks and
larger limbs as the more perfectly equipped woodpeckers.
“In a single day a chickadee will sometimes eat more than
four hundred eggs of the apple plant-louse,” says Prof.
Clarence Moores Weed, “while throughout the winter one
will destroy an immense number of the eggs of the canker-
worm.”

Caretakers of the Ground Floor

_ Hidden in the grasses at the foot of the trees, among the
undergrowth of woodland borders, under the carpet of last
year’s leaves, and buried in the ground itself, are insect
enemies whose name is legion. Among the worst of them
are the white grubs—the larvae of May beetles or June
bugs—and the wireworms which attack the roots of grasses
and the farmers’ grain; the maggots of crane-flies which do
their fatal work under cover of darkness in the soil; root-

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 11

and crown-borers which destroy annually fields of timo-
thy, clover, and herd’s-grass; grasshoppers, locusts, chinch
bugs, cutworms, and army worms that have ruined crops
enough to pay the national debt many times over.

But what a hungry feathered army rushes to their at-
tack! And how much larger would that army have been
if, in our blind stupidity or ignorance, we had not killed off
billions of members of it!

Some habitual fruit- or seed-eating birds of the trees
descend to the ground at certain seasons, or when an in-
sect plague appears, changing their diet to suit nature’s
special need; others “lay low” the year around, waging a
perpetualinsect war. Firstin that war stands the meadow-
lark. It is estimated that every meadow-lark is worth
more,than one dollar a year to the farmers, if only in con-
sideration of the grasshoppers it destroys; and as insects
constitute seventy-three per cent. of its diet, the remainder
being seeds of weeds chiefly, the farmer might as well draw
money out of the bank and throw it in the sea as to allow
the meadow-lark to be shot; yet it has long been classed
among game birds—a target for gunners.

“The average annual loss which the chinch bug causes to
the United States cannot be less than twenty million dol-
lars,”’ says Dr. L. O. Howard, of the Department of Agri-
culture. “It feeds on Indian corn and on wheat and other
small grains and grasses, puncturing the stalks and causing
them to wilt.” Incalculable numbers of this pest are
eaten every season by bob-whites, or quail, which, it will
be seen, are perhaps as valuable to the American people
when roaming through our grain fields as when served on
toast to our epicures. Blackbirds, crows, robins, native
sparrows, chewinks, oven-birds, brown thrashers, ground

12 BIRDS

warblers, woodcock, grouse, plovers, and the yellow
winged woodpeckers or flickers, which feed on ants (whose
chief offense is that they protect aphides or plant lice to
**milk’’ them)—these, and many other birds contribute to
our national wealth more than the wisest statistician could
estimate. Many old farmers will wish at least the crow
or the blackbird removed from this white list, but scientific
experts have proved that the workman is worthy of his
hire—that the birds which destroy enormous numbers of
white grubs, army worms, cutworms, and grasshoppers in
the fields are as much entitled to a share of the corn as the
horse that plows it or the ox that treads it out. The evil
results following a disturbance of nature’s nice balances
rest on no scientific theories but on historic facts. Pro-
tective bird laws, which very quickly increase the insect
police force, add many million dollars annually to the per-
manent wealth not only of such enlightened states as have
adopted them, but to the country at large, for birds, like
the rain, minister to the just and the unjust. And the
rising generation of farmers is the first to be taught this
simple economic fact!

Weed Destroyers ‘

Weeds have been defined as plants out of place, and
agriculture as an everlasting war against them. What
natural allies has the pestered farmer?

Happily, the sparrows and finches, among the most
widely distributed, prolific, and hardy of birds, are his con-
stant co-workers, some members of their large clan being
with him wherever he may live every day in the year.
Nearly all, it is true, vary their diet with insects, but
surely they are no less welcome on that account! ,

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 13

“Certain garden weeds produce an incredible number of
seeds,” says Dr. Sylvester Judd, of the Biological Survey.
*®A single plant of one of these species may mature as
many as a hundred thousand seeds in a season, and if un-
checked would produce in the spring of the third year ten
billion plants.” With these figures in mind, it is easy to
account for the exceedingly rapid spread of certain weeds
from the Old World—daisies and wild carrot, for example
—of comparatively recent introduction here. The great
majority of weeds being annuals, the parent plant dying
after frost or one season’s growth and the species living
only in embryo during the remainder of the year, it fol-
lows that seed-eating birds are of enormous practical
value. Even the despised English sparrows do great good
as weed destroyers—almost enough to tip the scales of
justice in their favor. In autumn, what noisy flocks of the
little gamins settle on our lawns and clean off seeds of
crab-grass, dandelion, plantain, and other upstarts in the
turf! The song sparrow, the chipping sparrow, the white-
throated sparrow, and the goldfinch are glad enough to
follow after their English cousin and get out the dandelion
seeds exposed after he cuts off several long, protecting
scales of the involucre. Because of his special preference,
however, the little black and yellow goldfinch, an un-
equaled destroyer of the composite weeds, is often called
the thistle-bird. The few tender sparrows which must
winter in the South are replaced in autumn by hardier rel-
atives, whose feeding grounds at the Far North are buried
under snow; by juncos, snowflakes, longspurs, redpolls,
grosbeaks, and siskins, all of which are busy gleaners
among the plow furrows in fallow land, and the brown weed
stalks that flank the roadsides or rear themselves above

14 BIRDS

the snowy fields. In enumerating the little weeders that
serve us without so much as a “thank you”—and fifty
different birds are on this list—we must not forget the
horned lark, chewink, blackbird, cowbird, grackle, meadow-
lark, bobolink, ruffed grouse, bob white, and the mourning
dove.

Even the most sluggish birds—and some of the finch
tribe have a reputation for being that—are fast livers com-
pared with men. Their hearts beat twice as fast as ours;
we should be feverish were our blood as hot; therefore, the
quantity of food required to sustain such high vitality,
especially in winter, is relatively enormous. A tree spar-
row will eat one hundred seeds of pigeon-grass at a single
meal, and a snowflake, observed in a Massachusetts gar
den one February morning, picked up more than a thou~
sand seeds of pigweed for breakfast.

Business Co-partnerships

In view of the enormous amount of work certain birds
are capable of doing for the farmers, how many take any
pains to secure their free services continuously; to get help
from them as well as from the spraying machine and insect
powder on which so much time and money are spent
annually? The truth is that very few farmers, indeed,
realize the true situation; therefore the intelligent, the
obvious thing to be done is generally neglected.

One of the most successful fruit-growers in Georgia,
whose luxuriant orchard and luscious peaches are famous
throughout the market, entered some time ago into a sys-
tematic, business-like understanding with a number of
birds whose special appetites for special insect pests make
them invaluable partners. Up and down through the

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 15

long avenues of trees he erected poles from twenty to
thirty feet high, and from them swung gourds for the
purple martins to nest in, because he has found this bird
his chief ally in keeping down the curculio beetle, the most
destructive foe, perhaps, the fruit-grower has to fight.
Through its attack alone the value of a single peach
orchard has been reduced from ten thousand dollars to
nothing in three weeks! The damage this little beetle
does to American fruit-growers annually amounts to
many millions of dollars. Just when the martins return
from the tropics, it is emerging from its winter hiberna-
tion. And when the nuptial flight of the curculio and
the shot-hole borer and the root-borer moth occurs, it
ought to be obvious to every fruit-grower that he cannot
have too many insectivorous birds about. Bluebirds,
which readily accept invitations to nest in boxes placed
on poles and trees, destroy immense numbers of insects
taken from the trees, ground, and air. In the Georgia
orchard referred. to, titmice, chickadees, and nuthatches
are attracted by raw peanuts placed in the trees and scat-
tered over the ground. Once these favorite nuts were dis-
covered, this family of birds likewise joined the firm which,
with the addition of the owner of the estate, now consists
of purple martins, barn swallows, chimney-swifts, blue-
birds, and wrens. Of course they have numerous assist-
ants that come and go, but these are the recognized part-
ners, both full-fledged and juniors, with homes on the
place. And all draw enormous dividends from it in that
unique and happy manner which greatly increases the cash
revenues of the business. Perhaps the junior partners,
the fledglings, with appetites bigger than their bodies
(for many eat more than their weight of food every

16 BIRDS

twenty-four hours), are of greater value than the seniors.
Even seed-eating birds feed insects to their nestlings: an
indigo bunting mother does not hesitate to ram a very large
grasshopper down her very small baby’s throat after she
has nipped off the wings.

Partnerships in Nature

Just as many insects have resorted to curious and in-
genious devices to avoid the birds’ attention, so many
trees, shrubs, and plants, with ends of their own to be
gained, take great pains to attract it. Some insects mimic
with their coloring that of their surroundings: one must
look sharp before discovering the glaucous green worm on
the glaucous green nasturtium leaf. Some, like the milk-
weed butterfly, secrete disagreeable juices to repel the
birds, and other butterflies, which secrete none, fool
their foes by bearing a superficial resemblance to it.
Others, like the walking-stick, assume a form that can
scarcely be distinguished from the objects they frequent.
With what pains does the caterpillar draw together the
edges of a leaf and hide within it, sleeping until ready to
emerge into its winged stage, if by chance a pair of sharp
eyes does not discover it at the beginning of its nap, and
a sharper beak tear it ruthlessly from the snug cradle!
Children who gather cocoons in the autumn are often dis-
appointed to find so many already empty. They forget
that thousands of hungry migrants have been out hunting
every morning before they left their beds. No cradle yet
woven is too rough for some bird to tear open for the
luscious, fat morsel within. To the Baltimore oriole
looking for a dinner, the strong cocoon of the great ce-
cropia moth yields one as readily as another; and I have

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 17

watched an orchard oriole that brought her young family
to feast in a tamarisk bush in the garden, pick forty-seven
basket-worms from their cleverly concealed baskets in
fifteen minutes.

But how the bright berries, hanging on the dogwood,
mountain ash, pokeweed, choke-cherry, shadbush, part-
ridge vine, wintergreen, bittersweet, juniper, Virginia
creeper, and black alder, cry aloud to every passing bird,
“EAT ME,” like Alice’s marmalade in Wonderland!
Many plants depend as certainly on the birds to distribute
their seeds as on bees and other insects to transfer the
pollen of their flowers. It is said that the cuckoo-pint or
spotted arum of Europe, a relative of our jack-in-the-
pulpit, actually poisons her messengers carrying seed,
because the decaying flesh of the dead birds affords the
most nourishing food for her seed to germinate in. Hap-
pily we have no such murderous pest here. Our wild
trees, shrubbery plants, and vines are honorable partners
of the birds. They feed them royally, asking in return
only that the undigested seeds or kernels which pass
through the alimentary canal uninjured may be dropped
far away from the parent plant, to found new colonies.
For how much of the earth’s beauty are not birds, the
seed-carriers, responsible!

Up-to-date farmers who wish to protect their culti-
vated fruits have learned that birds actually have the
poor taste to prefer wild ones, and so they plant them on
the outskirts of the farm, along walls and fences. They
have also learned that many birds puncture grapes and
drink fruit juice simply because they are thirsty. Pans
kept filled with fresh water compete successfully with the
grape arbor.

18 BIRDS

Saints and Sinners

Hawks and owls may be so labeled, yet it would be diffi-
cult, if not impossible, to convince some people that there
is a saint in the group. There is an instinctive popular
hatred of every bird of prey—a hatred so unreasoning and
unrelenting that it is well-nigh impossible to secure legisla-
tion to protect some of the farmers’ most beneficial
friends. After condemning the duck hawk for its villains
ies upon our wild water-fowl, and that powerful brigand,
the goshawk, for audaciously carrying off full-grown
poultry, ruffed grouse and rabbits, and Cooper’s hawk,
a deep-dyed chicken stealer, whose aggregate misdeeds
are greater than any others (simply because his species is
the most numerous), and his smaller prototype, the sharp-
shinned hawk for destroying little chickens and song-
birds, Doctor Fisher, who made an exhaustive study of
hawks and owls for the Government, recommends clem-
ency toward all the others. He investigated forty birds
of prey found within our borders.

“Tt would be just as rational to take the standard for
the human race from highwaymen and pirates as to judge
all hawks by the deeds of a few,” he says. “Even when
the industrious hawks are observed beating tirelessly
back and forth over the harvest fields and meadows, or
the owls are seen at dark flying silently about the nurseries
and orchards, busily engaged in hunting the voracious
rodents which destroy alike the grain, produce, young
trees, and eggs of birds, the curses of the majority of farm-
ers and sportsmen go with them, and their total extinction
would be welcomed. How often are the services to man
misunderstood through ignorance! The birds of prey,

National Association of Audubon Societies See page 28

WOOD THRUSH

ational Association of Audubon Societies

VEERY

WHAT BIRDS DO FOR US 19

the majority of which labor day and night to destroy the
enemies of the husbandman, are persecuted unceasingly,
while that gigantic fraud—the house cat—is petted and
fed and given a secure shelter from which it may emerge
to spread destruction among the feathered tribe. The
difference between the two can be summed up in a few
words: Only three or four birds of prey hunt birds when
they can procure rodents for food, while a cat seldom
touches mice if she can procure birds or young poultry.
A cat has been known to kill twenty young chickens in a
day, which is more than most raptorial birds destroy in a
lifetime.”

Hawks and owls admirably supplement each other’s
work. One group hunts while the other sleeps. The
owls usually remain in a chosen neighborhood through
the winter, while the hawks go south. We are never left
unprotected. In consideration of the overwhelming
amount of good these unthanked friends do us, can we
not afford to be to their faults a little blind?

A Volunteer Health Department

In the Southern states, Cuba, and the adjacent islands,
the great dark vultures that go sailing high in air express
the very poetry of motion; but surely their terrestrial
habits have to do with the very prose of existence, for
self-constituted health officers are they, scavengers of the
fields, that rid them of putrefying animal matter. In-
stead of burying a dead chicken, dog, cat, or even a large
domestic animal, the easy-going Negro lets it lie where it
dropped, knowing full well that before it becomes offen-
sive the vultures will have begun to feed upon it. In
some of the smaller cities the vultures mingle freely with

/

20 BIRDS

the loungers about the market-place, gorging upon the
refuse thrown about for the only street cleaners in sight.
Where robins, woodpeckers, and many species of small
song-birds are so lightly regarded as to be killed in shock-
ing quantities and not always for food, the vultures are
carefully protected by the Southern people, who, not yet
realizing the greater value of insectivorous birds to the
farmer, do nevertheless know enough to throw the arm of
the law around their feathered scavengers.

As if enough services that birds render us had not al-
ready been enumerated in this list—which is merely sug-
gestive and very far indeed from being complete—the
birds that rid our beaches of putrefying rubbish must not
be forgotten. While several sea and beach birds share
this task, it is to the gulls that we are chiefly indebted.
In the wake of garbage scows that put out to deep water
from the harbors of the seacoast and Great Lakes where
our large cities are situated, and following the ocean liners
for the food thrown overboard from the ships’ galleys;
or resting in the estuaries of the larger rivers where the
refuse floats down toward the tide, flocks of strong-
winged gulls may be seen hovering about with an eye in-
tently fastened on every floating speck. Enormous
feeders, gulls and terns cleanse the waters as vultures do
the land. Millions of these graceful birds that enliven
the dullest marine picture have been sacrificed for no
more worthy end than to rest entire or in mutilated sec-
tions on women’s hats! But now that the people begin
to understand what birds do for us, a happier day is dawn-
ing for them all.

CHAPTER IT
THE THRUSH FAMILY

BLUEBIRD—Rosin—Woop TarusH—VEERY

The Bluebird

Length—7 inches. About an inch longer than the English
sparrow.

Male—Upper parts, wings, and tail bright blue, with rusty
wash in autumn. Throat, breast, and sides cinnamon-
red. Underneath white.

Female—Has duller blue feathers, washed with gray, and a
paler breast than male.

Range—North America, from Nova Scotia and Manitoba
to Gulf of Mexico. Southward in winter from Middle
states to Bermuda and West Indies.

Migrations—March. November. Summer resident. A
few sometimes remain throughout the winter.

(See cover of book.)

Is there any sign of spring quite so welcome as the glint
of the first bluebird unless it is his softly whistled song?
No wonder the bird has become the symbol for happiness.
Before the farmer begins to plough the wet earth, often
while the snow is still on the ground, this hardy little min-
strel is making himself very much at home in our orchards

21

22 BIRDS

and gardens while waiting for a mate to arrive from the
South.

Now is the time to have ready on top of the grape arbor,
or under the eaves of the barn, or nailed up in the apple tree,
or set up on poles, the little one-roomed houses that blue-
birds are only too happy to occupy. More enjoyable
neighbors it would be hard to find. Sparrows will fight for
the boxes, it is true, but if there are plenty to let, and the
sparrows are persistently driven off, the bluebirds, which
are a little larger though far less bold, quickly take pos-
session. Birds that come earliest in the season and feed on
insects, before they have time to multiply, are of far
greater value in the field, orchard, and garden than birds
that delay their return until warm weather has brought
forth countless swarms of insects far beyond the control of
either bird or man. Many birds would be of even greater
service than they are if they received just a little en-
‘couragement to make their homes nearer ours. They
could save many more millions of dollars’ worth of crops
for the famers than they do if they were properly pro-
tected while rearing their ever-hungry families. As two or
even three broods of bluebirds may be raised in a box each
spring, and as insects are their most approved baby food,
it is certainly to our interest to set up nurseries for them
near our homes.

But when people are not thoughtful enough to provide
them before the first of March, the bluebirds hunt for a
cavity in a fence rail, or a hole in some old tree, preferably
in the orchard, shortly after their arrival, and proceed to
line it with grass. From three to six pale blue eggs are
laid. At first the babies are blind, helpless, and almost
naked. Then they grow a suit of dark feathers with

THE THRUSH FAMILY 23

speckled, thrush-like vests similar to their cousin’s, the
baby robin’s; and it is not until they are able to fly that the
lovely deep blue shade gradually appears on their grayish
upper parts. Then their throat, breast, and sides turn
rusty red. While creatures are helpless, a prey for any
enemy to pounce upon, Nature does not dress them con-
spicuously. Adult birds, that are able to look out for
themselves, may be very gaily dressed, but their children
must wear sombre clothes until they grow strong and wise.

Young bluebirds are far less wild and noisy than robins,
but their very sharp little claws discourage handling,
These pointed hooks on the ends of their toes help them to
climb out of the tree hollow, that is their natural home,
into the big world that their presence makes so cheerful.

As might be expected of creatures so heavenly in color,
the disposition of bluebirds is particularly angelic.
Gentleness and amiability are expressed in their soft
musical voice. Tru-al-ly, tru-al-ly, they sweetly assert
when we can scarcely believe that spring is here; and éur-
wee, tur-wee they softly call in autumn when they go roam-
ing through the countryside in flocks of azure. Neverthe-
less, in a fair fight for the possession of a bird house, they
will worst English sparrows nine times out of ten.

With the first cool days of autumn, bluebirds collect in
flocks, often associating with song sparrows, robins, orioles,
and kingbirds in sheltered, sunny places where insects are
still plentiful. Their steady, undulating flight now be-
comes erratic as they take food on the wing—a habit that
they may have learned by association with the kingbirds,
for they also have adopted the habit of perching upon some
conspicuous lookout and then suddenly launching out into
the air for a passing insect and returning to their perch.

24 BIRDS

Long after their associates have gone southward, they
linger like the last leaves on the tree. It is indeed “good-
bye to summer” when the bluebirds withdraw their touch
of brightness from the dreary November landscape at the
north to whirl through Southern woods and feed on the
waxy berries of the mistletoe.

The Robin

Length—10 inches.

Male—Dull brownish olive-gray above. Head black; tail
brownish black, with exterior feathers white at inner
tip. Wings dark brownish. Throat streaked with
black and white. White eyelids. Entire breast bright
rusty red; whitish below the tail.

Female—Duller and with paler breast, resembling the male
in autumn.

Range—North America, from Mexico to arctic regions.

Migrations—March. October or November. Often resi-
dent throughout the year.

(See frontispiece.)

The early English colonists, who had doubtless been
brought up, like the rest of us, on “The Babes in the
Wood,” named the bird after the only heroes in that
melancholy tale; but in reality the American robin is a
much larger bird than the little European robin-red-
breast and less brilliantly colored. John Burroughs calls
him, of all our birds, “the most native and democratic.”

How the robin dominates birddom with his strong, ag-
gressive personality! His voice rings out strong and clear
in the early morning chorus, and, more tenderly subdued

THE THRUSH FAMILY 25

at twilight, it still rises above all the sleepy notes about
him. Whether lightly tripping over the lawn after the
“early worm,” or rising with his sharp, quick cry of alarm
when startled, to his nest near by, every motion is decided,
alert, and free. No pensive hermit of the woods, like his
cousins, the thrushes, is this joyous, vigorous bird of the
morning.

A man of science, who devoted many hours of study to
learn the great variety of sounds made by common barn-
yard chickens in expressing their entire range of feeling,
from the egg shell to the axe, could entertain an audience
for an evening by imitating them. Similar study applied
to robins would reveal as surprisingly rich results, but
probably less funny. No bird that we have has so varied
a repertoire as Robin Goodfellow: few people can recog-
nize him by every one of his calls and songs. His softly
warbled salute to the sunrise differs from his lovely even-
song just as widely as the rapturous melody of his courting
days differs from the more subdued, tranquil love song to
his brooding mate. Indignation, suspicion, fright, in-
terrogation, peace of mind, hate, warning to take flight—
these and a host of other thoughts are expressed through
his flexible voice.

Perhaps no one thing attracts so many birds about the
house as a drinking dish—large enough for a bathtub as
well, for birds are not squeamish and certainly no bird de-
lights in sprinkling the water over his back more than a
robin, often aided in his ablutions by the spattering of
other bathers. But see to it that this drinking-dish is
well raised above the reach of lurking cats.

Robins prefer to build near water; bringing coarse
grasses, roots, and a few leaves or weed stalks for the foun-

26 BIRDS

dation of the nest and pellets of mud in their bills for the
inner walls (which they cleverly manage to smooth into a
bowl shape without a mason’s trowel), and fine grasses for
the lining, they saddle it on to the limb of an old apple
tree. They prefer low-branching orchard or shade trees
near our homes to the tall, straight shafts of the forest.
Some have the courage to build among the vines or under
the shelter of our piazzas. A pair of robins reared a brood
in a little clipped bay tree in a tub next to a front door,
where people passed in and out continually. Doubtless
very many birds would be glad of the shelter of our com-
fortable homes for theirs if they could only trust us.
Robins, especially, need a roof over their heads and a
house for them need have no sides, merely a roofed-over
shelf. When they foolishly saddle their nest on to an ex-
posed limb of a tree, the first heavy rain is likely to soften
the mud walls, and wash apart the heavy, bulky struct-
ure, when

“Down tumble babies and cradle and all.”

There are far too many tragedies of the nests after every
heavy spring rain.

Too much stress is laid on the mischief done by the
robins in the cherry trees and strawberry patches, and too
little upon the quantity of worms and insects they devour.
Professor Treadwell, who experimented upon some young
robins kept in captivity, learned that they ate sixty-eight
earthworms daily—‘“‘that is, each bird ate forty-one per
cent. more than its own weight in twelve hours! The
length of these worms, if laid end to end, would be about
fourteen feet. Man, at this rate, would eat about seventy
pounds of flesh a day, and drink five or six gallons of

‘

I

“En an & : ae
a a

National Association of Audubon Societies

See page 34

CHICKADEE

National Association of Audubon Societies See page 37

TUrTED TITMOUSE

THE THRUSH FAMILY 27

water.” How hard the father and mother birds work to
keep their fledglings’ crops filled! No wonder robins like
to live near our homes where the enriched land contains
many fat grubs, and the smooth lawns, that they run across
so lightly, make hunting for earthworms comparatively
easy.

Toward the end of June one may see robins flying in
flocks after sundown. Old males and young birds of the
first brood scatter themselves over the country by day to
pick up the best living they can, but at night they collect
in large numbers at some favorite roosting place. Often-
times the mother birds are now raising second or even third
broods. We like to believe that the fathers return from
the roosts at sun-up to help supply those insatiable babies
with worms throughout the long day. Every two or three
minutes up spring the little heads, mostly gaping yellow
mouths, like Jacks-in-the-box.

After family cares are over for the year, robins moult,
and then they hide, mope, and keep silent for a while. But
in September, in a suit of new feathers, they are feeling
vigorous and cheerful again; and, gathering in friendly
flocks, they roam about the woodland borders to feed on
the dogwood, choke berries, juniper berries, and other
small fruits, changing their diet with the season. By
dropping the undigested berry seeds far and wide, they
plant great numbers of trees and shrubs and help to make
the earth beautiful as they travel. With them every day
is Arbor Day.

It is a very dreary time when the last robin leaves us,
and an exceptionally cold winter when a few stragglers
from the south-bound flocks do not remain in some shel-
tered, sunny, woodland hollow.

28 _ BIRDS

The Wood Thrush

Length—8 to 8.3 inches. About two inches shorter than
the robin.

Male and Female—Brown above, reddish on head and
shoulders, and shading into olive-brown on tail. Throat,
breast, and underneath white, plain in the middle, but
heavily marked on sides and breast with heart-shaped
spots of very dark brown. Whitish eye-ring.

Migrations—Late April or early May. October. Sum-
mer resident.

(See plate, page 18.)

“Here am I,” come the thrush’s three clear, bell-like
notes of self-introduction. The quality of his music is
delicious, rich, penetrative, pure, and vibrating like
notes struck upon a harp. If you don’t already know
this most neighborly of the thrushes—as he is also the
largest and brightest and most heavily spotted of them
all—you will presently become acquainted with one of the
finest songsters in America. Wait until evening when he
sings at his best. Nolee-a-e-o-lee-nolee-acolee-lee ! peals
his song from the trees. Love alone inspires his finest
strains; but even in July, when bird music is quite in-
ferior to that of May and June, he is still in good voice.
A song so exquisite proves that the thrush comes near to
being a bird angel, very high in the evolutionary scale.

Pit-pit-pit you may hear sharply, excitedly jerked out
of some bird’s throat, and you wonder if a note so dis-
agreeable can really come from the wonderful songster.
By sharply striking two small stones together you can

THE THRUSH FAMILY 29

closely imitate this alarm call. Social as the wood thrush
is and abundant, too, it is also eminently high-bred; and
when contrasted with its tawny cousin the veery, that
hides in the nearest bushes as you approach, or with the
hermit thrush, that pours out its heavenly song in the soli-
tude of the forest, how neighborly and gracious and full of
gentle confidence it seems. Every gesture is graceful and
elegant; even a wriggling beetle is eaten as daintily as
caviare at the king’s table. It is only when its confidence
in you is abused, and you pass too near the low-hung nest,
that might easily be mistaken for a robin’s, that the wood
thrush so far forgets itself as to become excited. Pit,
pit, pit, sharply reiterated, is called out at you with a
strident quality in the tone that is painful evidence of the
fearful anxiety your presence gives this gentle bird.

Too many guardians of nests, whether out of excessive
happiness or excessive stupidity, have a dangerous habit
of singing near them. Not so the wood thrush. “Come
to me,”’ as the opening notes of its flute-like song have been
freely translated, invites the intruder far away from where
the blue eggs lie cradled.

While sitting, the mother bird is quite tame. A pho-
tographer placed his camera within four feet of a nest,
changed the plates, and clicked the shutter three times for
as many pictures without disturbing the gentle sitter who
merely winked her eye at each click.

Wood thrushes seem to delight in weaving bits of paper
or rags into their deep cradles. A nest in the shrubbery
near a bird-lover’s home in New Jersey had many bits of
newspaper attached to its outer walls, but the most con-
spicuous strip in front advertised in large letters “A
House to Be Let or Sold.” The original builders happily

30 BIRDS

took the next lease, and another lot of nervous, fidgety
baby tenants came out of four light greenish blue eggs;
but, as usual, they moved away to the woods after a
fortnight to join the choir invisible.

{
The Veery

Length—7 to 7.5 inches. About one-fourth smaller than
the robin. A trifle smaller than the wood thrush.

Male and Female—Uniform olive-brown, with a tawny
cast above. Centre of the throat white, with cream-
buff on sides of throat and upper part of breast, quite
lightly marked with wedge-shaped, brown points.
Underneath white, or with a faint grayish tinge.

Range—United States, westward to plains.

Migrations—May. October. Summer resident.

(See plate, page 19.)

To many of us the veery, as Wilson’s thrush is most
often called, is merely a voice, a sylvan mystery, reflecting
the sweetness and wildness of the forest, a vocal “will-
o’-the-wisp”’ that entices us deeper and deeper into the
woods. The song descends in a succession of trills with-
out break or pause; but no words can possibly convey an
idea of the quality of the music. It is as if two voices,
an alto and a soprano, were singing at the same time.
Whee-you, whee-you—the familiar notes might come
from a scythe being sharpened on a whetstone, were the
sound less musical than it is. The veery, that never
claims an audience, sings at night also, and its weird, sweet
strains floating through the woods at dusk thrill one like
the mysterious voice of a disembodied spirit.

THE THRUSH FAMILY 31

Shy, elusive, the veery is nevertheless more common
in New England than the wood thrush whose range is
more southerly. During its spring and fall migrations
only does it frequent the elms and maples that men have
planted. Take a good look at its tawny coat and lightly
spotted cream-buff breast before it goes away to hide.
Like Kipling’s “cat that walked by himself,” the veery
prefers the “wild, wet woods,” and there its ringing, weird,
whistling monotone, that is so melodious without being a
melody, seems to come from you can’t guess where. The
singer keeps hidden in the dense, dark undergrowth.

But it is not quite the recluse that the hermit thrush
is—that smallest of the thrushes with a voice as heavenly
as an ethereal hymn, where it floats upward from the
dim, deep forest. The cool woods of the Adirondacks,
the White Mountains, and the Laurentian range in Can-
ada are its favorite summer resorts.

CHAPTER III
SOME NEIGHBORLY ACROBATS

Rupy-cRowNED AND GOLDEN-CROWNED KincLets—CHICc-
KADEE—JvUFTED TiItmMOUSE—WHITE-BREASTED Nout-
HATCH—RED-BREASTED NuTHATCH

The Ruby-crowned Kinglet

Length—4.25 to 4.5 inches. About two inches smaller
than the English sparrow.

Male—Upper parts grayish olive-green, brighter nearer
the tail; wings and tail dusky, edged with yellowish
olive. Two whitish wing-bars. Breast and under-
neath light yellowish gray. In the adult male a ver-
mnilion spot on crown of his ash-gray head.

Female—Similar, but without the vermilion crest.

Range—North America. Breeds from northern United
States northward. Winters from southern limits of
its breeding range to Central America and Mexico.

Migrations—October. April. Rarely a winter resident
at the North. Most common during its migrations.

Count that a red-letter day on your calendar when first
you see either this tiny, dainty sprite, or his next of kin,
the golden-crowned kinglet, fluttering, twinkling about
the evergreens. In republican America we don’t often

82

SOME NEIGHBORLY ACROBATS 33

have the chance to meet two crowned heads. Energetic
as wrens, restless as warblers, and as perpetually look-
ing for insect food, the kinglets flit with a sudden,
jerking motion from twig to twig among the trees and
bushes, now on the lawn, now in the orchard, and
presently in the hedgerow down the lane. They have a
pretty trick of lifting and flitting their wings every
little while. The bluebird and pine grosbeak have it,
too, but their much larger, trembling wings seem far less
nervous.

Happily the kinglets are not at all shy; no bird is that is
hatched out so far north that it never sees a human being
until it travels southward to spend the winter. Alas!
It is the,birds that know us too well that are often the most
afraid. When the leaves are turning crimson and russet
and gold in the autumn, keep a sharp lookout for the
plump little grayish, olive-green birds that are even smaller
than wrens, and not very much larger than humming-
birds. Although members of quite a different family
(Syluiidae)—the kinglets are not exclusive—they con-
descend to join the nuthatches and chickadees in the
orchard, to help clean the farmer’s fruit trees or pick up
a morsel at the free lunch counter in zero weather. At
this season there is nothing in the kinglet’s thin, metallic
call-note, like a vibrating wire, to indicate that when
in love he is a fine songster. And love or war is necessary
to make the king show us his crown. But vanity or anger
is sufficient excuse for lifting the dark feathers that nearly
conceal the beauty spot on the top of his head when the
midget’s mind is at ease. If you approach very near—
and he will allow you to almost touch him—you may see
the little patch of brilliant red feathers, it is true, but you

$4 BIRDS

will probably get an unexpected, chattering scolding from
the little king as he flies away.

In the spring his love song is as surprisingly strong in
proportion to his size as the wren’s, It seems impos-
sible for such a volume of mellow, flute-like melody
to pour from a throat so tiny. Before we have a chance
to hear it again, the singer is off with his tiny queen
to nest in some spruce tree beyond the Canadian bor-
der.

The golden-crowned kinglet, similar to its next of kin,
has a touch of orange color, bordered by yellow and out-
lined by black for his adornment; otherwise one could
scarcely tell the kinglets apart.

The Chickadee

Length—65 to 5.5 inches. About an inch smaller than the
English sparrow.

Male and Female—Not crested. Crown and nape and
throat black. Above gray, slightly tinged with brown.
A white space, beginning at base of bill, extends back-
ward, widening over cheeks and upper part of breast,
forming a sort of collar that almost surrounds neck.
Underneath dirty white, with pale rusty-brown wash
on sides. Wings and tail gray, with white edgings.
Plumage downy.

Range—Fastern North America. North of the Carolinas
to Labrador. Does not migrate in the North.

Migrations—Late September. May. Winter resident;
permanent resident in northern parts of the United
States.

(See plate, page 26.)

National Association of Audubon Societies See pages 38 and 1.0

WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH, MALE AND FEMALE (above)
RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH, MALE AND FEMALE (below)

See page 47

National Association of Audubon Societies

BROWN THRASHER

SOME NEIGHBORLY ACROBATS 35

Bitterly cold and dreary though the day may be, that
“little scrap of valor,” the chickadee, keeps his spirits
high until ours cannot but be cheered by the oft-repeated,
clear, tinkling silvery notes that spell his name. Chicka-
dee-dee, chicka-dee-dee, he introduces himself. How easy
it would be for every one to know the birds if all would
but sing out their names as clearly as the chickadee and
towhee do.

No bird, except the wren, is more cheerful than the
chickadee, and his cheerfulness, fortunately, is contagious.
None will respond more promptly to your whistle in imi-
tation of his three very high, clear call notes, and come
nearer and nearer to make quite sure you are only a harm-
less mimic. He is very inquisitive. Although not a bird
may be in sight when you first whistle his call, nine chances
out of ten there will be a faint echo from some far-distant
throat before very long; and by repeating the notes at
short intervals you will have, probably, not one but several
echoes from as many different chickadees whose curiosity
to see you soon gets the better of their appetites and brings
them flying, by easy stages, to the tree above your head.
Where there is one chickadee there are apt to be more in
the neighborhood; for these sociable, active, cheerful little
black-capped fellows in gray like to hunt for their living
in loose-scattered flocks throughout the fall and winter.
Their family parties alone are always large. They are
wonderfully tame; except the chipping sparrow, perhaps
the tamest birds that we have. Patient people, who know
how to whistle up these friendly sprites, can sometimes
draw them close enough to touch, and an elect few, who
have the special gift of winning a wild bird’s confidence,
can induce the chickadee to alight upon their hands.

86 BIRDS

Blessed with a thick coat of fat under his soft, fluffy
gray feathers, a hardy constitution, and a sunny disposi-
tion, what terrors has the winter for him? When the
thermometer goes down, his spirits seem to go up the
higher. Dangling like a circus acrobat on the cone of some
tall pine tree; standing on an outstretched twig, then turn-
ing over and hanging with his black-capped head down-
ward from the high trapeze; carefully inspecting the rough
bark on the twigs for a fat grub or a nest of insect eggs, he is
constantly hunting for food and singing grace between bites.
His day, day, day, sung softly over and over again, seems
to be his equivalent for “Give us this day our daily bread.”

How delightfully he and his busy friends, who are always
within call, punctuate the snow-muffled, midwinter silence
with their ringing calls of good cheer! The orchards where
chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, and kinglets have dined
all winter will contain few worm-eaten apples next season.
At least one thrifty fruit-grower attracts to his trees all the
winter birds from far and near by keeping on several
shelves nailed up in his orchard, strips of suet, cheap rai-
sins, raw peanuts chopped fine, cracked hickory nuts, and
rinds of pork. The free lunch counters are freely patron-
ized. There is scarcely an hour in the day, no matter how
cold, when some hungry feathered neighbor may not be
seen helping himself to the heating, fattening food he
needs to keep his blood warm.

At the approach of warm weather, chickadees retreat
from public gaze to become temporary recluses in damp,
deep woods or woodland swamps where insects are most
plentiful. For a few months they give up their friendly
flocking ways and live in pairs. Long journeys they do
not undertake from the North when it is time to nest; but

SOME NEIGHBORLY ACROBATS 37

southern birds move northward in the spring. Happily
the chickadee may find a woodpecker’s vacant hole in some
hollow tree; worse luck if a new excavation must be made
in a decayed birch—the favorite nursery. Wool from the
sheep pasture, felt from fern fronds, bits of bark,.moss, hair,
and the fur of “little beasts of field and wood”—anything
soft that may be picked up goes to line the hollow cradle
in the tree trunk. How the crowded chickadee babies
must swelter in their bed of fur and feathers tucked inside
a close, stuffy hole!

The Tufted Titmouse

Don’t expect to meet the tufted titmouse if you live very
far north of Washington. He is common only in the South
and West.

This pert and lively cousin of the lovable little chickadee
is not quite so friendly and far more noisy. Peto-peto-peto
comes his loud, clear whistle from the woods and clearings
where he and his large family are roving restlessly about
all through the autumn and winter. A famous musician
became insane because he heard one note ringing con-
stantly in his overwrought brain. If you ever hear a
troup of titmice whistling peto over and over again for
hours at a time, you will pity poor Schumann and fear a
similar fate for the birds. But they seem to delight in the
two tiresome notes, uttered sometimes in one key, some-
times in another. Another call—day-day-day—reminds
you of the chickadee’s, only the tufted titmouse’s voice is
louder and a little hoarse, as it well might be from such
constant use.

38 BIRDS

Few birds that we see about our homes wear a top knot
on their heads. The big cardinal has a handsome red one;
the larger blue jay’s is bluish gray; the cedar waxwing’s is a
Quaker drab; but the little titmouse, which is about the
size of an English sparrow, may be named at once by the
gray-pointed crest that makes him look so pert and jaunty.
‘When he hangs head downward from the trapeze on the
oak tree, this little gray acrobat’s peaked cap seems
to be falling off; whereas the black skull cap on the smaller
chickadee fits close to his head no matter how much he
turns over the bar and dangles.

(See plate, page 27.)

Neither one of these cousins is a carpenter like the wood-
pecker. The titmouse has a short, stout bill without a
chisel on it, which is why it cannot chip out a hole for a
nest in a tree trunk or old stump unless the wood is much
decayed. ‘This is why these birds are so pleased to find a
deserted woodpecker’s hole. Not alone are they saved
the trouble of making an excavation, but a deep tunnel in
a tree trunk means security for their babies against hawks,
crows, jays, and other foes, as well as against wind and rain.

‘When we cut down the decayed and hollow old trees, let
us see to it that nesting boxes are provided for the birds
that once made them their home if we really want them for
neighbors.

The White-breasted Nuthatch
Lengith—5.5 to 6 inches. A trifle smaller than the English

sparrow.
Male and Female—Upper parts slate color. Top of head
and nape black. Wings dark slate, edged with black,

SOME NEIGHBORLY ACROBATS 39

that fades to brown. Tail feathers brownish black, with
white bars. Sides of head and underneath white,
shading to pale reddish under the tail. (Female’s head
leaden.) Body flat and compact. Bill longer than
head.

Range—British provinces to Mexico. Eastern United
States.

Migrations—October. April. Common resident. Most
prominent in winter.
(See plate, page 34.)

When it comes to acrobatic performances in the trees,
neither the chickadee nor the titmouse can rival their rela-
tives, the little bluish gray nuthatches, Indeed, any circus
might be glad to secure their expert services. Hanging
fearlessly from the topmost branches of the tallest pine,
running along the under side of horizontal limbs as com-
fortably as along the top of them, or descending the trunk
head foremost, these wonderful little gymnasts keep their
nerves as cool as the thermometer in January. From the
way they travel over any part of the tree they wish, from
top and tip to the bottom of it, no wonder they are some-
times called tree mice. Only the fly that walks across the
ceiling, however, can compete with them in clinging to the
under side of boughs.

Why don’t they fall off? If ever you have a chance, ex-
amine their claws. These, you will see, are very much
curved and have sharp little hooks that catch in any crack
or rough place in the bark and easily support the bird’s
weight. As a general rule the chickadee keeps to the end
of the twigs and the smaller branches; the tufted titmouse
rids the larger boughs of insects, eggs, and worms hidden in

40 BIRDS

the scaly bark; but the nuthatches can climb to all but in-
accessible places. With the help of the hooks on their
toes it does not matter to them whether they run upward,
downward, or sidewise; and they can stretch their bodies
away from their feet at some very queer angles. Their long
bills penetrate into deep holes in the thick bark of the tree
trunks and older limbs and bring forth from their hiding
places insects that would escape almost every other bird
except the brown creeper and the woodpecker. Of course,
when any feathered acrobat is performing in the trees, he
is working hard to pick up a dinner, not exercising merely
for fun.

The Red-breasted Nuthatch

The most familiar nuthatch, in the eastern United
States, is the one with the white breast; but in the Northern
states and Canada there is another common winter neigh-
bor, a smaller compactly feathered, bluish gray gymnast
with a pale rusty breast, a conspicuous black line running
apparently through his eye from the base of his bill to the
nape of his neck, and heavy white eyebrows. This is the
hardy little red-breasted nuthatch. (See page 34.) His
voice is pitched rather high and his drawling notes seem
to come from a lazy bird instead of one of the most vigor-
ous and spry little creatures in the wood. The nasal ank-
ank of his white-breasted cousin is uttered, too, without
expression, as if the bird were compelled to make a sound
once in a while against his will. Both of these cousins have
similar habits. Both are a trifle smaller than the English
sparrow. In summer they merely hide away in the woods
to nest, for they are not migrants. It is only when nesting
duties are over in the autumn that they become neighborly.

SOME NEIGHBORLY ACROBATS 41

Who gave them their queer name? A hatchet would be
a rather clumsy tool to use in opening a nut, but these
birds have a convenient, ever-ready one in their long,
stout, sharply pointed bills with which they hack apart the
small thin-shelled nuts like beech nuts and hazel nuts,
chinquapins and chestnuts, kernels of corn and sunflower
seeds. These they wedge into cracks in the bark just big
enough to hold them. During the summer and early
autumn when insects are plentiful, the nuthatches eat little
else; and then they thriftily store away the other items on
their bill of fare, squirrel fashion, so that when frost kills
the insects, they may vary their diet of insect eggs and grubs
with nuts and the larger grain. Flying to the spot wherea
nut has been securely wedged, perhaps weeks before, the
bird scores and hacks and pecks it open with his sharp little
hatchet, whose hard blows may be heard far away.

CHAPTER IV
‘A FAMILY GROUP OF LIVELY SINGERS

Marsh Wren—Hovust Wren—CarouinA WREN—
Brown THrasHER—CATBIRD—MOCcKING-BIRD

The Marsh Wren

Length—4.5 to 5.2 inches. Actually a little smaller than
the English sparrow. Apparently half the size.

Male and Female—Brown above, with white line over the
eye, and the back irregularly and faintly streaked with
white. Wings and tail barred with darker cinnamon-
brown. Underneath white. Sides dusky. Tail long
and often carried erect. Bill extra long and slender.

Range—United States and southern British America.

Migrations—May. September. Summer resident.

Hidden among the tall grasses and reeds along the
creeks and rivers lives the long-billed marsh wren, a ner-
vous, active little creature that you know at a glance.
With tail cocked up and even tilted forward toward her .
head in the extreme of wren fashion, or suddenly jerked
downward to help keep her balance, she sways with the
grass as it blows in the wind—a dainty little sprite. With
no desire to make your acquaintance, she flies with a short,
jerky motion (because of her short wings) a few rods away,

42

A FAMILY OF LIVELY SINGERS 43

then drops into the grasses which engulf her as surely as if
she had dropped into the sea. Like the rails, she has her
paths and runways among the tall sedges and cat-tails,
where not even a boy in rubber boots may safely follow.
But she does not live alone. Withdraw, sit down quietly
for awhile and wait for the excitement of your visit to sub-
side; for every member of the wren colony, peering sharply
at you through the grasses, was watching you long before
you saw the first wren. Presently you hear a rippling,
bubbling song from one of her neighbors; then another and
another and still another from among the cat-tails which
you now suspect conceal many musicians. The song goes
off like a small explosion of melody whose force often
carries the tiny singer up into the air. One musical ex-
plosion follows another, and between them there is much
wren talk—a scolding chatter that is as great a relief to the
birds’ nervous energy as the exhaust from its safety valve is
to a steam engine. The rising of a red-winged blackbird
from his home in the sedges, the rattle of the kingfisher on
his way up the creek, or the leisurely flapping of a bittern
over the marshes is enough to start the chattering chorus.
Why are the birds so excited? This is their nesting
season, May, and really they are too busy to be bothered
by visitors. Most birds are content to make one nest a
year but not these, who, in their excess of wren energy,
keep on building nest after nest in the vicinity of the one
preferred for their chocolate-brown eggs. Bending down
the tips of the rushes they somehow manage to weave them
with the weeds and grasses they bring, into a bulky
ball suspended between the rushes and firmly attached to
them. In one side of this green grassy globe they leave
an entrance through which to carry the finer grasses for the

44, BIRDS

lining and the down from last season’s burst cat-tails.
When a nest is finished, its entrance is often cleverly con-
cealed. If there are several feet of water below the high
and dry cradle, so much the better, think the wrens—
fewer enemies can get at them; but they do sometimes
build in meadows that are merely damp.

In such meadows the short-billed marsh wren, a slightly
smaller sprite, similar in appearance and in habits, pre-
fers to live.

The House Wren

Length—4.5 to 5 inches. Actually about one-fourth
smaller than the English sparrow; apparently only half as
large because of its erect tail.

Male and Female—Upper parts cinnamon-brown; deepest
on head and neck; lightest above tail, which is more
rusty. Back has obscure, dusky bars; wings and tail
finely barred. Underneath whitish, with grayish-
brown wash and faint bands most prominent on sides.

Range—North America, from Manitoba to the Gulf. Most
common in the United States, from the Mississippi east-
ward. Winters south of the Carolinas.

Migrations—April. October. Common summer resi-
dent.

Early some morning in April there will go off under your
window that most delightful of all alarm-clocks—the tiny,
friendly house wren, just returned from a long visit south.
Like some little mountain spring that, having been im-
prisoned by winter ice, now bubbles up in the spring sun-
shine, and goes rippling along over the pebbles, tumbling

A FAMILY OF LIVELY SINGERS 45

over itself in merry cascades, so this little wren’s song
bubbles, ripples, cascades in a miniature torrent of ecstasy.
The song seems to bubble up faster than he can sing.
“Foive notes to wanst”’ was an Irishman’s description of it.
After the wren’s happy discovery of a place to live in, his
song will go off in a series of musical explosions all day long,
now from the roof, now from the clothes-posts, the fence,
the barn, or the wood-pile. There never was a more tire-
less, spirited, brilliant singer. From the intensity of his
feelings, he sometimes droops that expressive little tail of
his, which is usually so erect and saucy.

Year after year wrens return to the same nesting places:
a box set up against the house, a crevice in the barn, a
niche under the eaves; but once home, always home to
them. The nest is kept scrupulously clean; the house-
cleaning, like the house-building and renovating, being
accompanied by the cheeriest of songs, that makes the bird
fairly tremble by its intensity. But however angelic the
voice of the house wren, its temper can put to flight even
the English sparrow. Nevertheless, it is a safe precaution
in making wren houses to cut the entrance hole no larger
than the ring that is drawn with a pencil around a silver
quarter of a dollar—a hole too small for sparrows but just
right for wrens. They really prefer boxes to the holes in
stumps and trees they used to occupy before there were any
white people on this continent. But the little mites have
been known to build in tin cans, coat pockets, old shoes,
mittens, hats, glass jars, and even inside a human skull
that a medical student hung out in the sun to bleach!

The male begins to carry twigs into the house before he
finds a mate. The day little Jenny Wren appears on the
scene, how he does sing! Dashing off for more twigs, but

46 BIRDS

stopping to sing to her every other minute, he helps furnish
the cottage quickly, but of course, he overdoes it—he carries
in more twigs and hay and feathers than the little house
ean hold, then pulls half of them out again. Jenny
gathers, too, for she is a bustling housewife and arranges
matters with neatness and despatch to suit herself.
Neither vermin nor dirt will she tolerate within her well-
kept home. Everything she does pleases her ardent little
lover. He applauds her with song; he flies about after her
with a nervous desire to protect; he seems beside himself
with happiness. Let any one pass too near his best be-
loved, and he begins to chatter excitedly: Chit-chit-chit-
chit as much as to say “Oh, do go away, go quickly!
Can’t you see how nervous and fidgety you make me?”

If you fancy that Jenny Wren, who is patiently sitting
on the little pinkish chocolate-spotted eggs in the centre of
her feather bed, is a demure, angelic creature, you have
never seen her attack the sparrow, nearly twice her size,
that dares put his impudent head inside her door. Oh,
how she flies at him! How she chatters and scolds! What
a plucky little shrew she is, after all! Her piercing, chatter-
ing, scolding notes are fairly hissed into his ears until he is
thankful enough to escape with his life.

What rent do the wrens pay for the little houses you put
up for them? No man is clever enough to estimate the
vast numbers of insects on your place that they destroy.
They eat nothing else, which is the chief reason why they
are so lively and excitable. Unable to soar after flying in-
sects because of their short, round wings, they keep, as a
rule, rather close to the ground which their finely barred
brown feathers so closely match. Whether hunting for
grubs in the wood-pile, scramblng over the brush heap

A FAMILY OF LIVELY SINGERS 47

after spiders, searching among the trees to provide a dinner
for their large families, or creeping, like little feathered
mice, in queer nooks and crannies among the outbuildings
on the farm, they are always busy in your interest which is
also theirs. It certainly pays, in every sense, to encourage
wrens.

The Carolina Wren

The house wrens have a tiny cousin, a mite of a bird
called the winter wren, that is so shy and retiring it is diff-
cult to become acquainted with it where it hides in mossy,
rocky woods near water. But a larger chestnut-brown
bird, all finely waved and barred with darker mark-
ings, as all these relatives are, is the Carolina wren which
is quite common in the Middle and Southern states.
However it, too, really prefers the forest undergrowths
near water, fallen logs, half-decayed stumps and mossy
rocks where insects lurk but cannot hide from his sharp,
peering eyes. Now here, now there, appearing and dis-
appearing, never at rest, even his expressive tail being in
constant motion, he seems as nervously active as Jenny
Wren’s fidgety husband. His loud-ringing, three-sylla-
bled whistle—Tea-ket-tle, Tea-ket-tle, Tea-ket-tle—sug-
gests the crested titmouse’s peto of two syllables, but in
quality only. 2
(The Brown Thrasher

Length—11 to 11.5 inches. Fully an inch longer than the
robin.

Male—Rusty red-brown above; darkest on wings, which
have two short whitish bands. Underneath white,
heavily streaked (except on throat) with dark-brown,

48 BIRDS

arrow-shaped spots. Tail very long. Bill long and
curved at tip.

Female—Paler than male.

Range—United States to Rockies. Nests from Gulf
states to Manitoba and Montreal. Winters south of
Virginia.

Migrations—Late April. October. Common summer
resident.

(See plate, page 35.)

People who are not very well acquainted with the birds
about them usually mistake the long-tailed brown thrasher
for a thrush because he has a rusty back and a speckled
white breast, which they seem to think is exclusively a thrush
characteristic, which it certainly is not. The oven-bird
and several members of the sparrow tribe, among other
birds, have speckled and streaked breasts, too. The brown
thrasher is considerably longer than a thrush and his habits
are quite different. Watch him nervously twitch his long
tail, or work it up and down like one end of a see-saw, or
swing it like a pendulum, or suddenly jerk it up erect while
he sits at attention in the thicket, then droop it when, after
mounting to a conspicuous perch, he lifts his head to sing,
and you will probably “guess right the very first time”
that he is a near relative of the wrens, not a thrush at all.
As a little sailor-boy once said, “He carries his tell-tail
on the stern.”

Like his cousin, the catbird, the brown thrasher likes to
live in bushy thickets overgrown with vines. Here, run-
ning over the ground among the fallen leaves, he picks up
with his long slender bill, worms, May beetles, and scores of

other kinds of insects that, but for him, would soon find

A FAMILY OF LIVELY SINGERS 49

their way to the garden, orchard, and fields. Yet few
farmers ever thank him. Because they don’t often see him
picking up the insects in their cultivated land, they
wrongly conclude that he does them no benefit, only mis-
chief, because, occasionally, he does eat a little fruit. It
seems to be a dreadful sin for a fellow in feathers to help
himself to a strawberry or a cherry or a little grain now and
then, although having eaten quantities of insects that, but
for him, would have destroyed them, who has earned a
better right to a share of the profits?

The thrasher’s song entrances every listener. He
seems rather proud of it for although at other times he
may keep himself well concealed among the shrubbery,
when about to sing, he chooses a conspicuous perch as if to
attract attention to his truly brilliant performance.

This common and tuneful neighbor has been called a
ground “thrush” because it so often chooses to place its
nest at the roots of tall weeds in an open field; but a low
bush suits it quite as well. Its bulky nest is not a very
choice piece of architecture. Twigs, leaves, vine tendrils,
and bits of bark form its walls, and the speckled, greenish
blue eggs within are usually laid upon a lining of fine black
rootlets.

The Catbird

Length—9 inches. An inch shorter than the robin.

Male and Femal—Dark slate above; below somewhat
paler; top of head black. Distinct chestnut patch
under the black tail, feet and bill black also. Wings
more than two inches shorter than the tail.

Range—British America to Mexico; west to Rocky

50 BIRDS

Mountains, rarely to Pacific Coast. Winters in South-
ern states, Central America, and Cuba.

Migrations—May. November. Common summer resi-
dent.

Slim, lithe, elegant, dainty, the catbird, as he runs lightly
over the lawn or hunts among the shrubbery, appears to be
a fine gentleman among his kind—a sort of Beau Brummel,
in smooth, gray feathers who has preened and prinked
until his toilet is quite faultless. He is among the first to
discover the bathing dish or drinking pan that you have set
up in your garden, for he is not too squeamish, in spite of
his fine appearance, to drink from his bath. With well-
poised, black-capped head erect, and tail up, too, wren
fashion, he stands at attention on the rim of the dish, alert,
listening, tense—the neatest, trimmest figure in birddom.

After he has flown off to the nearest thicket, what a
change suddenly comes over him! Can it be the same
bird? With puffed-out, ruffled feathers, hanging head and
drooping tail, he now suggests a fat, tousled schoolboy
just tumbled out of bed Was ever a bird more contra-
dictory? One minute, from the depths of the bushy
undergrowth where he loves to hide, he delights you with
the sweetest of songs, not loud like the brown thrasher’s,
but similar; only it is more exquisitely finished, and
rippling. Prut! prut! coquillicot! he begins. Really,
really, coquillicot! Hey, coquillicot! Hey, victory! his in-
imitable song goes on like a rollicking recitative. The
next minute you would gladly stop your ears when he
utters the disagreeable cat-call that has given him his
name. Zeay, Zeay—whines the petulant cry. Now you

A FAMILY OF LIVELY SINGERS 51

see him on the ground calmly looking for a grasshopper or
daintily helping himself to a morsel from the dog’s plate
at the kitchen door. Suddenly, with a jerk and a jump, he
has sprung into the air to seize a passing moth. There is
always the pleasure of variety and the unexpected about
the friendly, intelligent catbird.

He has a keen appetite for so many pests of the garden
and orchard—moths, grasshoppers, beetles, caterpillars,
spiders, flies and other insects—that his friendship is well
worth cultivating. Five catbirds,whose diet was carefully
watched by scientific men in Washington, ate thirty grass-
hoppers each for one meal.

How many people ignorantly abuse thecatbird! Because
he has the good taste to like strawberries and cherries as
well as we do, is he to be condemned on that account? If
he kills insects for us every waking hour from April to
October, is he not entitled to a little fruit in June? The ox
that treadeth out the corn is not to be muzzled. A good
way to protect our strawberry patches and cherry trees
from catbirds, mocking-birds, and robins, is to provide
fruit that they likemuch better—thered mulberry. Nothing
attracts so many birds toa place. A mulberry tree in the
chicken-yard provides a very popular restaurant, not only
for the song birds among the branches, but for the scratch-
ers on the ground floor.

Like the yellow-breasted chat, the catbird likes to hide
its nest in a tangle of cat brier along the roadside under-
growth and in bushy, woodland thickets. Last winter,
when that vicious vine had lost every leaf, I counted
in it eighteen catbird nests within a quarter of a mile
along a country lane. Long before the first snowstorm,
the inmates of those nests were enjoying summer weather

52 BIRDS

again from the Gulf states to Panama. If one nest should
be disturbed in May or June, when the birds are raising
their families, all the catbird neighbors join in the outcry
of mews and cat-calls. Should a disaster happen to the
parents, the orphans will receive food and care from some
devoted foster-mother until they are able to fly.

The Mocking-bird

Length—9 to 10 inches. About the size of the robin.

Male and Female—Gray above; wings and wedge-shaped
tail brownish; upper wing feathers tipped with white;
outer tail quills white, conspicuous in flight; chin white;
underneath light gray, shading to whitish.

Range—Peculiar to torrid and temperate zones of two
Americas.

Migrations—No fixed migrations; usually resident where
seen.

Ever alert, on the quz vive, the mocking-bird can no more
suppress the music within him, night or day, than he can
keep his slim, neat, graceful, nervous, high-strung body at
rest. From his restlessness alone you might suspect he is
the cousin of the catbird and brown thrasher and is closely
related to the wrens. Flitting from perch to perch (flut-
tering is one of his chief amusements even in a cage); taking
short flights from tree to tree, and so displaying the white
signals on his wings and tail; hopping lightly, swiftly, grace-
fully, over the ground; bounding into the air, or the next
minute shooting his ashy gray body far across the garden
and leaving a wake of rippling music behind as he flies, he

A FAMILY OF LIVELY SINGERS 53

seems to be perpetually in motion. If youliveinthe South
you can encourage no more delightful and amusing neigh-
bor than this star performer in the group of lively singers.

His love song is entrancing. “Oft in the stilly night,”
when the moonlight sheds a silvery radiance everywhere,
the mocking-bird sings to his mate such delicious music as
only the European nightingale can rival. Perhaps the
stillness of the hour, the beauty and fragrance of the place
where the singer is hidden among the orange blossoms or
magnolia, increase the magic of his almost pathetically
sweet voice; but surely there is no lovelier sound in nature
on this side of the sea. Our poet Lanier declared that this
“heavenly bird” will be hailed as “Brother” by Beethoven
and Keats when he enters the choir invisible in the spirit
world.

With all his virtues, it must be added, however, that this
charming bird is a sad tease. There is no sound, whether
made by bird or beast about him, that he cannot imitate so
clearly as to deceive every one but himself. Very rarely
can you find a mocking-bird without intelligence and mis-
chief enough to appreciate his ventriloquism. Not only
does he imitate but he invents all manner of quips and
vocal jugglery.

When all the states make and enforce proper bird laws.
there will be an end to the barbaric slaughter of many in-
nocents for no more worthy end than the trimming of hats
for thoughtless women. Birds of bright plumage have
suffered most, of course, but the mocking-birds’ nests have
been robbed for so many generations to furnish caged fledg-
lings for both American and European bird dealers, that
shot guns could have done no work more deadly. Where
the people are too ignorant to understand what mocking-

54 BIRDS

birds are doing for them every day in the year by eating
insects in their gardens, fields, and parks, they are shot in
great numbers for the sole offence of helping themselves te
a small fraction of the very fruit they have helped to pre-
serve. Even the birds ought to have a “square deal” in
free America.

CHAPTER V
THE WARBLERS

REDSTART—YELLOW-BREASTED CHatT—MaryLANpD YEL-
LOW-THROAT—OVEN-BIRD—BLACKBURNIAN WARB-
LER—CHESTNUT-SIDED WaARBLER—MyrtLE WaRrB-
LER— YELLOW WARBLER—BLACK AND WHITE CREEP-
ING WARBLER

The Redstart

Length—5 to 5.5 inches.

Male—In spring plumage: Head, neck, back, and middle
breast glossy black. Breast and underneath white
slightly flushed with salmon, increasing to bright salmon
flame on the sides of the body and on the wing linings.
Tail feathers partly black, partly flame, with broad black
band across the end. Flame markings on wings. In
autumn: Fading into rusty black, olive, and yellow.

Female—Olive-brown, and yellow where the male is sal-
mon flame.

Young—Browner than the females.

Range—North America to upper Canada. West occasion-
ally, as far as the Pacific Coast, but commonly found in
summer in the Atlantic and Middle states.

Migrations—Early May. End of September. Summer
resident.

56 BIRDS

When this exquisite little warbler flashes his brilliant
salmon flame-and-black feathers among the trees, darting
hither and thither, fluttering, spinning about in the air
after insects caught chiefly on the wing, you will surely
agree that he is the most beautiful as well as the most
lively bird in the woods. The color scheme of his clothes
suggests the Baltimore oriole’s, only the feathers on the
sides of his body, wings, and tail are a pinker shade of
flame, and the black ones which cover his back, throat, and
upper breast are more glossy, with bluish reflections. But
you could not possibly mistake this lovely little sprite for
the oriole, he is so much smaller—about an inch shorter
than the sparrow. Hiscousin, the Blackburnian warbler, a
rarer bird, with a color scheme of black, white, and beau-
tiful rich orange, can be named instantly by the large
amount of white in his tail feathers. There are so few
brilliantly colored birds that find their way to us from the
tropics, that it should not take long to know them. In
Cuba the redstart is known as “El Candelita’’—the little
candle flame that flashes in the deep, dark, tropical forest.
No wonder the Spaniards call all the gaily colored, tropi-
cal wood warblers “ mariposas”—butterflies.

Who would believe that this small firebrand, half glow-
ing, half charred, whirling about through the trees as if
blown by the wind, is a cousin of the sombre oven-bird that
walks so daintily and leisurely over the ground? The red-
start keeps perpetually in motion that he may seize gnats
and other gauzy-winged mouthfuls in mid-air—not as the
flycatchers do, by waiting on a fence-rail or limb of a tree
for a dinner to fly past, then dashing out and seizing it, but
by flitting about constantly in search of insect prey. The
redstart rarely rests on the trees longer than it takes to

THE WARBLERS 57

snatch a morsel, erecting his tail, wren fashion, and some-
times spreading it, peacock fashion; then away he goes
again.

The Yellow-breasted Chat

Length—7.5 inches. A trifle more than an inch longer than
the English sparrow.

Male and Female—Uniform olive-green above. Throat,
breast, and under side of wings bright, clear yellow.
Underneath white. Sides grayish. White line over the
eye, reaching to base of bill and forming partial eye-
ring. Also white line on sides of throat. Bill and feet
black.

Range—North America, from Ontario to Central America
and westward to the plains. Most common in Middle
Atlantic states.

Migrations—Early May. Late August or September.
Summer resident.

“Now he barks like a puppy, then quacks like a duck,
then rattles like a kingfisher, then squalls like a fox, then
caws like a crow, then mews like a cat—C-r-r-r-r-r-whrr-
that’s it—Chee-quack, cluck, yit-yit-yit-now—hit it—tr-
r-r-r-wheu-caw-caw-cut, cut-tea-boy-who, who-mew, mew,”
writes John Burroughs of this rollicking polyglot, the chat;
but not even that close student of nature could set down on
paper all the multitude of queer sounds with which the
bird amuses himself. He might be mistaken for a dozen
different birds and animals in as many minutes.

Only by creeping cautiously toward the roadside tangle,
where this “‘rollicking polyglot” is entertaining himself
and his mate, brooding over her speckled eggs in a bulky

58 BIRDS

nest set in a most inaccessible briery part of the thicket,
can you hope to hear him rattle through his variety per-
formance. Walk boldly or noisily past his retreat, and
there is “silence there and nothing more.” But two very
bright eyes peer out at you through the undergrowth,
where the trim bird watches you with quizzical suspicion
until you quietly seat yourself and assume silent indiffer-
ence. Whew, whew! he begins, and than he rattles off
an indescribable, eccentric medley until your ears are
tired listening. With bill uplifted, tail drooping, wings
fluttering at his side, he cuts an absurd enough figure, but
not so comical as when he rises into the air, trailing his legs
behind him, stork-fashion. This surely is the clown among
birds. But eccentric though he is, he is capable of great
devotion and remains faithfully mated year after year.
However much of a tease and a deceiver he may be to the
passer-by along the roadside, in the privacy of the domestic
circle he shows truly lovable traits.

He has the habit of singing in his unmusical way on
moonlight nights. Probably his ventriloquial powers are
cultivated not for popular entertainment, but to lure in-
truders away from his nest.

The Maryland Yellow-throat
Length—5.33 inches. An inch shorter than the English

sparrow.

Male—Olive-gray on head, shading to olive-green on all the
other upper parts. Forehead, cheeks, and sides of head
black, like a mask, and bordered behind by a grayish
line. Throat and breast bright yellow, growing steadily
paler underneath.

THE WARBLERS 59

Female—Either totally lacks black mask or its place is in-
dicated by only a dusky tint. She is smaller and duller.

Range—Eastern North America, west to the Plains; most
common east of the Alleghanies. Nests from the Gulf
states to Labrador and Manitoba; winters south of Gulf
states to Panama.

Migrations—May. September. Common summer resi-
dent.

This gay little warbler looks as if he were dressed for
masquerade ball with a gray-edged black mask over his
faceand the sides of his throat, a brownish green coat, and a
bright yellow vest. How sharply the inquisitivefellow peers
at you through his mask whenever you pass the damp
thicket, bordering the marshy land, where he likes best to
live! Andhow quicklyhehopsfromtwig totwigand flies from
one clump of bushes to another clump, in restless, warbler
fashion, as he leads you a dance in pursuit. Not for a
second does he stop watching you.

If you come too close, a sharp pit-yit or chock is snapped
out by the excited bird, whose familiar, oft-repeated,
sprightly, waltzing triplet has been too freely translated,
he thinks, into, Fol-low-me, fol-low-me, fol-low-me. Pur-
suit is the last thing he really desires, and of course he
issues no such invitation. What he actually says sounds
like Witch-ce-tee, witch-ee-tee, witch-ee-tee. You will surely
hear him if you listen in his marshy retreats. He sings al-
most all summer and, at evening, adds a flight song to his
repertoire. Except when nesting he comes into the gar-
den, picks minute insects out of the blossoming shrubbery,
hops about on the ground, visits the raspberry tangle, and
hides among the bushes along the roadside. Only the

60 BIRDS

yellow warbler, of all his numerous tribe, is disposed to be
more neighborly. i

The little inconspicuous mate who bewitches him is not
easily identified if he is not about. While he sings the
“‘witchity ”’ song she is busy carrying weeds, strips of bark,
broad grasses, tendrils, reeds, and leaves for the outside of
her deep cradle, and finer grasses for its lining, to a spot on
the ground where plants and low bushes help conceal it. A
favorite site is the heart of the skunk cabbage. She does
not build so beautiful a nest as the yellow warbler, but, like
her, she too, poor thing, sometimes suffers from the sneak-
ing visits of the cowbird. Unhappily, she is not so clever
as her cousin, for she meekly consents to hatch out the
cowbird’s egg and let the big, greedy anterloper crowd and
worry and starve her own brood.

The Oven-bird

Length—6 to 6.15 inches, about the size of an English
sparrow.

Male and Female—Upper parts olive, with a dull orange
V-shaped crown, bordered by black lines that converge
toward the bill. Under parts white; breast spotted and
streaked on the sides.

Range—United States to Pacific Slope.

Migrations—May. October. Common summer resident.

“Teacher—Teacher—TracuErR—TEACHER—
TEACHER!”’ resounds a penetrating accented voice from
the woods. Who calls? Not an impatient scholar, cer-
tainly, but a shy little thrush-like warbler who has no use
whatever for any human being, especially at the nesting

THE WARBLERS 61

season in May and June, when he calls most loudly and
frequently. Beginning quite softly, he gradually in-
creases the intensity of each pair of notes in a crescendo
that seems to come from a point much nearer than it really
does. Once heard it is never forgotten, and you can al-
ways be sure of naming at least this bird by his voice alone.
However, his really exquisite love song—a clear, ringing,
vivacious melody, uttered while the singer is fluttering,
hovering, high among the tree-tops—is rarely heard, or if
heard is not recognized as the teacher’s aerial serenade.
He is a warbler, let it be recorded, who really can sing.

In the highest, driest parts of the wood, where the
ground is thickly carpeted with dead leaves, you may some
day notice a little bunch of them, that look as if a plant,
in pushing its way up through the ground, had raised the
leaves, rootlets, and twigs a trifle. Examine the spot more
carefully, and on one side you find an opening, and within
the ball of earth, softly lined with grass, Ke four or five
cream-white speckled eggs. It is only by a happy accident
that this nest of the oven-bird is discovered. The con-
cealment could not be better. It is this peculiarity of nest
construction—in shape like a Dutch oven—that has given
the bird what DeKay considers its “trivial name.” Not
far from the nest the parent birds scratch about in the
leaves, like diminutive barnyard fowls, for the grubs and
insects hiding under them. But at the first suspicion of
an intruder their alarm becomes pitiful. Panic-stricken,
they become fairly limp with fear, and drooping her wings
and tail, the mother bird drags herself hither and thither
over the ground. In happier moments they walk prettily,
daintily, like a French dancing master, and nod their little
heads as if marking time.

62 BIRDS

The Blackburnian Warbler

Length—4.5 to 5.5 inches. An inch and a half smaller than
the English sparrow.

Male—Head black, striped with orange-flame; throat and
breast orange, shading through yellow to white under-
neath; wings, tail, and part of back black, with white
markings. White conspicuous in tail feathers.

Female—Olive-brown above, shading into yellow on breast,
and paler under parts.

Range—Eastern North America to plains. Winter in
tropics.

Migrations—May. September. Spring and autumn mi-
grant.

No foliage is dense enough to hide, and no autumnal tint
too brilliant to outshine this luminious little bird that in
May, as it migrates northward to its nesting ground, darts
in and out of the leafy shadows like a tongue of fire.

It is the most glorious of all the warblers—a sort of
diminutive oriole, orange where the redstart is salmon, al-
though novices sometimes confuse these two most tropical
looking members of their family that visit us. The quiet-
colored little mate of the Blackburnian warbler flits about
after him, apparently lost in admiration of his fine feathers
and the ease with which his thin tenor voice can end his
fine lover’s warble in a high Z.

Take a good look at this attractive couple, for in May
they leave us to build a nest of bark and moss in the ever-
greens of Canada—that paradise for warblers—or of the
Catskills and Adirondacks, and in autumn they hurry
South to escape the first frosts.

THE WARBLERS 63

The Chestnut-sided Warbler

Length—About 5 inches. More than an inch shorter than
the English sparrow.

Male—Top of head and streaks in wings yellow. A black
line running apparently through the eye and back of
crown. Ear coverts, chin, and underneath white. Back
greenish gray and slate, streaked with black. Sides of
bird chestnut. Wings, streaked with black and yellow,
have yellowish-white bars. Dark tail with white
patches on inner vanes of the outer quills.

Female—Similar, but duller. Chestnut sides are often
scarcely apparent.

Range—Eastern North America, from Manitoba and
Labrador to the tropics, where it winters.

Migrations—May. September. Summer resident, most
common in migrations.

In the Alleghanies, and from New Jersey and Illinois
northward, this restless little warbler nests in the bushy
borders of woodlands and the undergrowth of open woods,
for which he forsakes our gardens and orchards after a very
short visitin May. While hopping over the ground catch-
ing ants, of which he seems to be inordinately fond, or flit-
ting actively about the shrubbery after grubs and insects,
we may note the broad, reddish brown stripe on his sides,
whereas the bay-breasted warbler, with which it is some-
times confused, has the crown, throat, and sides a rich
chestnut. With drooped wings that often conceal the
bird’s chestnut sides, which are his chief distinguishing
mark, and with tail erected like a redstart’s, he hunts in-

64 BIRDS

cessantly. Here in the garden he is as refreshingly in-
different to your interest in him as later, in his breeding
haunts, he is shy and distrustful. His song is bright and
animated, like that of the yellow warbler.

The Myrtle Warbler

Length—5 to 5.5 inches. About an inch smaller than the
English sparrow.

Male—In summer plumage: A yellow patch on top of head,
lower back, and either side of the breast. Upper parts
bluish slate, streaked with black. Upper breast black;
throat white; all other under parts whitish, streaked
with black. Two white wing-bars, and tail quills have
white spots near the tip. In winter: Upper parts olive-
brown, streaked with black; the yellow spot on lower
back the only yellow mark remaining. Wing-bars
grayish.

Female—Resembles male in winter plumage.

Range—Eastern North America. Occasional on Pacific
Slope. Summers from Minnesota and northern New
England northward to fur countries. Winters from
Middle states southward into Central America; a few
remaining at the northern United States all winter.

Migrations—April. October. November.

The first of the warblers to arrive in the spring and the
last to leave us in the autumn, some even remaining
throughout the northern winter, the myrtle warbler, next
to the summer yellow-bird, is the most familiar of its mul-
titudinous kin. We become acquainted with it chiefly in
the migrations, when it impresses us by its numbers rather

THE WARBLERS 65

than by gorgeousness of attire, although it is quietly
beautiful. The four yellow spots on crown, lower back,
and sides are its distinguishing marks; and in the autumn
these marks have dwindled to only one, that on the lower
back or rump. The great difficulty experienced in identi-
fying any warbler is in its restless habit of flitting about.

If we look sharply into every group of myrtle warblers,
we are quite likely to discover some of their dainty, fragile
cousins that gladly seek the escort of birds so fearless as
they. By the last of May all the warblers are gone from
the neighborhood except the constant little yellow war-
bler, redstart, yellow-throat, oven-bird, and chat.

In autumn, when the myrtle warblers return after a
busy enough summer passed in Canadian nurseries, they
chiefly haunt those regions where juniper and bay-berries
abound. These latter (Myrica cerifera), or the myrtle
wax berries, as they are sometimes called, and which are
the bird’s favorite food, have given it their name. Where-
ever the supply of these berries is sufficient to last through
the winter, there it may be found foraging in the scrubby
bushes. Sometimes driven by cold and hunger from the
fields, this hardiest member of a family that properly be-
longs to the tropics seeks shelter and food close to the out-
buildings on the farm.

The Yellow Warbler

Length—4.75 to 5.2 inches. More than an inch shorter
than the English sparrow.

Male—Upper parts olive-yellow, brightest on the crown;
under parts bright yellow, streaked with reddish brown.
Wings and tail dusky olive-brown, edged with yellow.

66 BIRDS

-Female—Similar; but reddish-brown streakings less dis-
tinct.

Range—North America, except Southwestern states,
where the prothonotary warbler reigns in its stead.
Nests from Gulf states to fur countries. Winters
south of the Gulf states, as far as northern parts of
South America.

Migrations—May. September. Common summer resi-
dent.

Rather than live where the skies are gray and the air is
cold, this adventurous little warbler, or summer yellow-
bird as he is often called, will travel two thousand miles or
more to follow the sun. A trip from Panama to Canada
and back again within five months does not appal him. By
living in perpetual sunshine his feathers seemed to have
absorbed some of it, so that he looks like a stray sunbeam
playing among the shrubbery on the lawn, the trees in the
orchard, the bushes in the roadside thicket, the willows and
alders beside the stream. Although you may not get close
enough to see that his yellow breast is finely streaked with
reddish brown, you may know by these marks that he is
not what you at first suspected he was—somebody’s pet
canary escaped from a cage.

Is there anybody living who could name at sight every
one of the seventy warblers old and young, male and fe-
male, that visit the United States? Some of these birds,
peculiarly American, are very gaily colored and exquisitely
marked, as birds coming to us from the tropics have a right
to be. Some are quietly clad; some, like the redstart, are
dressed quite differently from their mates and young;
others, like the yellow warbler, are so nearly alike that one

THE WARBLERS 67

could see no difference between the male and female from
the distance of a few feet. Some live in the tops of ever-
greens and other tall trees; others, like the Maryland yel-
low-throat, which seems to prefer low trees and shrubbery,
are rarely seen more than twelve feet from the ground. | A
few, like the oven-bird, haunt the undergrowth in the woods
or livemostof the timeontheearth. With three or four ex-
ceptions all the warblers dwell in woodlands, and it is only
during the spring and autumn migrations that we have an
opportunity to become acquainted with them; when they
come about the orchard and shrubbery for a few days’ rest
and refreshment during their travels. Fortunately the
cheerful little yellow warbler stays around our homes all
summer long. Was there ever a family so puzzling and
contradictory as the Warblers?

The great majority of these fascinating and exasperating
relatives are nervous, restless little sprites, constantly
flitting from branch to branch and from twig to twig in a
never-ending search for small insects. As well try to
catch a weasel asleep as a warbler at rest. People who live
in the tropics, even for a little while, soon become lazy.
Not so the warblers, whose energy, like a steam engine’s,
seems to be increased by heat. Of course they do not
undertake long journeys merely for pleasure, as wealthy
human tourists do. They must migrate to find food; and
as insects are most plentiful in warm weather, you see why
these atoms of animation keep in perpetual motion. They
are among the last migrants to come North in the spring
and among the first to leave in the autumn because few in-
sects hatch out in cool weather, and the birds must always
be sure of plenty to eat. Traveling as they do, chiefly
by night, they are killed in numbers against the light-

{

68 BIRDS

houses and electric light towers which especially fascinate
these poor little victims.

_ Who first misled us by calling these birds warblers?
The truth is there is not one really fine singer, like a thrush,
in the whole family. The yellow-breasted chat has re-
markable vocal ability, but he is not a real musician like
the mocking-bird. The warblers, as a rule, have weak,
squeaky, or wiry songs and lisping éseep call notes. The
yellow warbler sings as acceptably as most of his kin.
Seven times he rapidly repeats: ‘‘ Sweet—sweet—sweet—
sweet—sweet—sweeter-sweeter” to his sweetheart, but this
happy little love-maker’s incessant song is apt to become al-
most tiresome to everybody except his mate.

What a clever little creature she is! More than any
other bird she suffers from the persecutions of that dusky
rascal, the cowbird. In May, with much help from her
mate, she builds an exquisite little cradle of silvery plant
fibre, usually shreds of milkweed stalk, grass, leaves, and
caterpillars’ silk, neatly lined with hair, feathers, and the
downy felt of fern fronds. The cradle is sometimes placed
in the crotch of an elder bush, sometimes in a willow tree;
preferably near water where insects are abundant, but
often in a terminal branch of some orchard tree.

Scarcely is it finished before the skulking cowbird
watches her chance to lay an egg in it that she may not be
bothered with the care of her own baby. She knows that
the yellow warbler is a gentle, amiable, devoted mother,
who will probably work herself to death, if necessary,
rather than let the big baby cowbird starve. But she
sometimes makes a great mistake in her individual. Not
all yellow warblers will permit the outrage. They prefer
to weave a new bottom to their nest, over the cowbird’s

THE WARBLERS 69

egg, although they may seal up their own speckled treas-
ures with it. Suppose the wicked cowbird comes back and
lays still another egg in the two-storied nest; what then?
The little Spartan yellow bird has been known to weave
still another layer of covering rather than hatch out an un-
welcome, greedy interloper to crowd and starve her own
precious babies. ‘Two and even three-storied nests have

been found.

Black and White Creeping Warbler

Length—5 to 5.5 inches. About an inch smaller than the
English sparrow.

Male—Upper parts white, varied with black. A white
stripe along summit of head and back of neck, edged
with black. White line above and below eye. Black
cheeks and throat, grayish in females and young. Breast
white in middle, with black stripes on sides. Wings and
tail rusty black, with two white cross-bars on former,
and soiled white markings on tail quills.

Female—Paler and less distinct markings throughout.

Range—Eastern United States and westward to the Plains.
North as far as the fur countries. Winters in tropics
south of Florida.

Migrations—April. Late September. Summer resident.

Nine times out of ten this active warbler is mis-
taken for the little downy woodpecker, not because of his
coloring alone, but also on account of their common habit
of running up and down the trunks of trees and on the
under side of branches, looking for insects, on which all the
warblers subsist. But presently the true warbler char-

70 BIRDS

acteristic of restless flitting about shows itself. A wood-
pecker would go over a tree with painstaking, systematic
care, while the black and white warbler, no less intent
upon securing its food, hurries off from tree to tree, wher-
ever the most promising menu is offered.

Clinging to the mottled bark of the tree trunk, like a
nuthatch, it would be difficult to find him were it not for
these sudden flittings and the feeble song, Weachy,
weachy, weachy, *twee, ’twee, "tweet, he half lisps, half sings.

CHAPTER VI
THE VIREOS OR GREENLETS

Rep-EYED VIREO—WH&ITE-EYED VIREO—YELLOW-
THROATED VIREO—WARBLING VIREO

When Dame Nature, the most thorough of housekeepers,
gave to the birds the task of restraining insects within
bounds so that man and beast could live, she gave the care
of foliage to the vireos. It is true that most of the war-
blers, and a few other birds, too, hunt for their food among
the leaves, but with nothing like the vireo’s painstaking
care and thoroughness. The nervous, restless warblers
flit from twig to twig without half exploring the foliage;
whereas the deliberate, methodical, and tamer vireos search
leisurely above and below it, cocking their little heads so
as to look up at the under side of the leaf above them and
to peck off the destroyers hidden there—bugs of many
kinds and countless little worms, caterpillars, weevils,
inch-worms, May beetles, and leaf-eating beetles. Sing-
ing as they go, no birds more successfully combine work
and play.

Because they spend their lives among the foliage, the
vireos are protectively colored, with soft grayish or olive-
green on their backs, wings, and tail, whitish or yellow be-
low. Some people call them greenlets. They are all a

71

72 BIRDS

little smaller than sparrows. More inconspicuous birds it
would be hard to find or more abundant, although so com-
monly overlooked except by people on the lookout for
them. Where the new growth of foliage at the ends of the
branches is young and tender, many insects prefer to lay
their eggs that their larve may have the most dainty fare
as soon as they are hatched. They do not reckon upon the
vireo’s visits.

Toward the end of April or the first of May, these tire-
less gleaners return to us from Central and South America.
where they have spent the winter, which of course is no
winter on the other side of the equator, but a continuation
of summer for them. Competition for food being more
fierce in the tropics than it is here, millions of birds besides
the warblers and vireos travel from beyond the Isthmus of
Panama to the United States and back again every year in
order that they may live in perpetual summer with an
abundance of food. If any one thinks that birds are mere
creatures of pleasure, who sing to pass the time away, he
doesn’t begin to understand how hard they must work for a
living. They cannot limit their labors to an eight-hour
day. However, they keep cheerful through at least sixteen
busy hours.

The Red-eyed Vireo

Length—5.75 to 6.25 inches. A fraction smaller than the
English sparrow.

Male and Female—Upper parts dull, light olive-green; well-
defined slaty gray cap, with black marginal line, below
which, and forming an exaggerated eyebrow, is a line of
white. A brownish band runs from base of bill ap-
parently through the eye. The iris is ruby-red. Under-

THE VIREOS OR GREENLETS 73

neath white, shaded with light greenish yellow on sides
and on under tail and wing coverts.

Range—United States to Rockies and northward. Winters
in Central and South America.

Migrations—April. October. Common summer resi-
dent.

Almost everywhere in the eastern United States and
Canada, the red-eyed vireo is the most common member of
his family. The only individual touch to his costume that
helps to distinguish him isa gray cap edged with a
black line which runs parallel to his conspicuous white
eyebrow.

Listen to the preacher! You have no need to meet him
face to face in order to know him: You see tt—you know
tt—do you hear me?—do you believe ut? he propounds in-
cessantly through the long summer days, even after most
other birds are silent. You cannot mistake his declama-
tory voice. With a rising inflection at the end of each
short, jerky sentence, he asks a question very distinctly
and sweetly, then pauses an instant as if waiting for a re-
ply—an unusually courteous orator. His monotonous
monologue, repeated over and over again, comes to us from
the elms and maples in the village street, the orchard, and
woodland, where he keeps steadily and deliberately at
work. Just as some boys say they can whittle better if
they whistle, so vireos seem to hunt more thoroughly if
they sing.

Vireos are remarkably fine builders—among the very
best. Although their nests are not so deep as the Balti-
more orioles’, the shape and weave are similar. The red-
eye usually prefers to swing her cradle from a small crotch

74 BIRDS

in an oak or apple tree or sapling, and securely lace it
through the rim on to the forked twigs. Nests vary in ap-
pearance, but you will notice that these weavers show a
preference for dried grass as a foundation into which are
wrought bits of bark, lichen, wasps’ nest “paper,” spider
web, plant down, and curly vine tendrils.

The White-eyed Vireo

It is not often that one can get close enough to any bird
to see the white of his eyes, but the brighter olive-green of
this vivacious little white-eyed vireo’s upper parts, its
white breast faintly washed with yellow on the sides, and
the two yellowish white bars on its wings help one to
recognize it.

““Pertest of songsters,” the white-eyed vireo makes
whatever neighborhood it enters lively at once. Taking
up a residence in the tangled shrubbery or thickety under-
growth, it immediately begins to scold like a crotchety old
wren. Its half-muffled, cackling soliloquies reflect irrita-
tion over the merest trifles—a passing bumblebee, a visit
from another bird to its tangle, an unsuccessful peck
at a gnat—anything seems liable to rouse its wrath,
while it sharply snaps out what might perhaps be freely
constructed into ‘“‘cuss-words.” Now, who are you,
eh? its five-syllabled “song” unsociably seems to
inquire.

The inconspicuous little bird has a strong, decided
character. The precious nest, so jealously guarded, is a
deeper cup that that of the vireo with the ruby-red eye,
deeper than that of any of the other vireos, and it usually
contains three favorite materials in addition to those gen-

THE VIREOS OR GREENLETS 75

erally chosen by them: they are bits of wood usually stolen
from some woodpecker’s hole, shreds of paper, and yards
and yards of fine caterpillar silk, by which the nest is hung
from its slender fork in the thicket. It also contains, not
infrequently, alas! a cowbird’s most unwelcome egg. The
inscrutable mystery is that this vireo permits the lazy cow-
bird to deposit an egg in its nest, and will patiently sit upon
it, though it is as large as three of her own tiny eggs; and
when the little interloper comes out from his shell the
foster-mother will continue to give it the most devoted care
long after it has shoved her poor little starved babies out of
the nest to meet an untimely death in the smilax thicket
below. She should take a lesson from the clever yellow
warbler.

The Yellow-throated Vireo

In a family not conspicuous for its fine feathers, this is
certainly the beauty. The clear lemon-yellow worn at its
throat spreads over its vest; its coat is a richer and more
yellowish green than the other vireos wear, and its two
white wing-bars are as conspicuous as the white-eyed
vireo’s. Moreover, its mellow and rich voice, like a con-
tralto’s, is raised to a higher pitch at the end of a sweetly
sung triplet. See me; I’m here; where are you? the singer
inquires over and over again from the trees in the wood-
land, or perhaps in the village when nesting duties are not
engrossing. Don’t mistake it for the chat simply because
its throat is yellow.

As this is the beauty of the modest family, so is it also
the best nest builder. Its pensile cradle, of exquisite
workmanship, frequently hangs from the crotch of some
slender tree near water.

%6 BIRDS

The Warbling Vireo

High up in the tops of elms and maples that line village
streets where the red-eyed vireo loves to hunt, even among
the trees of so busy a thoroughfare as Boston Common, an
almost continuous warble in the early summer indicates
that some unseen singer is hidden there; but even if you
get a glimpse of the warbling vireo you could not tell him
from his red-eyed cousin at that height. Modestly
dressed, without even a white eyebrow or wing-bars to re-
lieve his plain dusty olive and whitish clothes, he is the.
least impressive member of his retiring, inconspicuous
family. He asks you no questions in jerky, colloquial
triplets of song, so you may know by his voice at least that
he is not the red-eyed vireo. Some self-conscious birds,
like the song sparrow, mount to a conspicuous perch before
they begin to sing, as if they had to deliver a distinct
number on a programme before a waiting audience. Not
so with this industrious little gleaner to whom singing and
dining seem to be a part of the same performance—one and
inseparable. He sings as he goes, snatching a bit of insect
food between warbles. .

Although towns do not affright him, he really prefers
wooded borderland and clearings, especially where birch
trees abound, when it is time to rear a family.

CHAPTER VII
BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER

Two SHRIKES OR ButcuER Brraps—Crpar Waxwina—
Two TANAGERS

The Loggerhead Shrike

Length—8.5 to 9 inches. A little smaller than the robin.

Male and Female—Upper parts bluish, ashy gray; narrow
black line across forehead connecting small black
patches on sides of head at base of bill. Wings and tail
black, plentifully marked with white, the outer tail
feathers often being entirely white and conspicuous in
flight. Underneath white or very light gray. Bill
hooked and hawk-like.

Range—FEastern United States to the Plains.

Migrations—May. October. Summer resident.

The Northern Shrike

-Length—9.5 to 10.5 inches. About the size of the robin.
Male—Upper parts slate-gray; wing quills and tail black,
edged and tipped with white, conspicuous in flight; a
white spot on centre of outer wing feathers. A black
jband runs from bill, through eye to side of throat. Light
gray below, tinged with brownish, and faintly marked

77

78 BIRDS

with waving lines of darker gray. Bill hooked and hawk-
like.
Female—With eye-band more obscure than male’s, and
with more distinct brownish cast on her plumage.
Range—Northern North America. South in winter to
middle portion of United States.
Migrations—November. April. A roving winter resident.

Is it not curious that among our so-called song birds there
should be two harsh-voiced ones, about the size of robins,
the loggerhead and the northern shrike, with the hawk-
like habit of killing little birds and mice, and the squirrel’s
and blue jay’s trick of storing what they cannot eat? They
are butchers, with the thrifty custom of hanging up their
meat, which only improves in flavor and tenderness after a
day or two of curing. Then, even if storms should
drive their little prey to shelter and snow should cover
the fields, they need not worry nor starve,. seeing an
abundance in their larder provided for the proverbial
rainy day.

In the Southern and Middle states, where the smaller
loggerhead shrike is most common, some say he looks like a
mocking bird; but the feathers on his back are surely quite
a different gray, a light bluish ash, and pearly on his under
parts, with white in his black wings and tail which is con-
spicuous as he flies. His powerful head, which is large for
his size, has a heavy black line running from the end of his
mouth across his cheek, and his strong bill has a hook on
the end which is useful in tearing the flesh from his victim’s
bones. He really looks like nothing but just what he is—a
butcher-bird.

See him, quiet and preoccupied, perched on a telegraph

BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER 79

pole on the lookout for a dinner! A kingbird, or other fly-
catcher which chooses similar perches, would sail off sud-
denly into the air if a winged insect hove in sight, snap it
up, make an aerial loop in its flight, and return to its old
place. Not so the solitary, sanguinary shrike. When his
wonderfully keen eyes detect a grasshopper, a cricket, a
big beetle, a lizard, a little mouse, or a sparrow at a distance
in a field, he drops like an eagle upon the victim, seizes it
with his strong beak, and flies with steady flapping strokes
of the wings, close along the ground, straight to the nearest
honey locust or spiny thorn; then rises with a sudden up-
ward turn into the tree to impale his prey. Hawks, which
use the same method of procuring food, have very strong
feet; their talons are of great help in holding and killing
their victims; but the shrikes, which have rather weak feet
for perching only, are really compelled in many cases to
make use of stout thorns or sharp twigs to help them
quiet the struggles of their victims. Weather-vanes,
lightning rods, bare branches, or the outermost or top
branches of tall trees, high poles, and telegraph wires,
which afford a fine bird’s-eye view of the surrounding
hunting ground, are favorite points of vantage for both
shrikes. When it is time to husk the corn, every farmer
must have seen a shrike sitting on a fence-rail or hovering
in the air ready to seize the little meadow mice that escape
from the shocks.

Shrikes also sneak upon their prey. When they resort
to this mean method of securing a dinner they leave the
high perches and secrete themselves in clumps of bushes in
the open field. Luring little birds within striking distance
by imitating their call-notes, they pounce upon a terror-
stricken sparrow before you could say “Jack Robinson.”

80 BIRDS

Shrikes seem to be the only creatures that really rejoice in
the rapid increase of English sparrows. In summer they
prefer large insects, especially grasshoppers, but in winter,
when they can get none, they must have the fresh meat of
birds or mice. At any season they deserve the fullest pro-
tection for the service they do the farmer. Shrikes kill
only that they themselves may live, and not for the sake of
slaughter, which is a so-called sport reserved for man alone,
who, in any case, should be the last creature to condemn
them.

The loggerhead’s call-notes are harsh, creaking, and un-
pleasant, but at the approach of the nesting season he
proves that he really can sing, although not half so well as
his cousin, the northern shrike, who astonishes us with a
fine song some morning in early spring. Before we be-
come familiar with it, however, the wandering minstrel is
off to the Far North to nest within the arctic circle. It is
only in winter that the northern shrike visits the United
States, traveling as far south as Virginia and Kansas be-
tween October and April.

The Cedar Waxwing
Length—7 to 8 inches. About one-fifth smaller than the

robin; larger than the sparrow.

Male—Upper parts rich grayish brown, with plum-colored
tints showing through the brown on crest, throat, breast,
wings, and tail. A velvety black line on forehead runs
through the eye and back of crest; chin black. Crest .
conspicuous; breast lighter than the back, and shading
into yellow underneath. Wings have quill-shafts of
secondaries elongated, and with brilliant vermilion tips

BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER 81

like drops of sealing-wax, rarely seen on tail quills, which
have yellow bands across the end.

Female—With duller plumage, smaller crest, and narrower
tail-band.

Range—North America, from northern British provinces to
Central America in winter.

Migrations—A roving resident, without fixed seasons for
migrating.

So few birds wear their head feathers crested that it is a
simple matter to name them by their top-knots alone,
even if one did not see the gray plumage of the little tufted
titmouse, the dusky hue of the crested flycatcher, the blue
of the jay and the kingfisher, the red of the cardinal, and
the richly shaded grayish brown of the cedar waxwing,
which is, perhaps, the most familiar of them all. His neat
and well-groomed plumage is fine and very silky, almost
dove-like in coloring, and although there are no gaudy
features about it, few birds are so exquisitely dressed.
The pointed crest, which rises and falls to express every
passing emotion, and the velvety black chin, forehead, and
line running apparently through the eye, give distinction
to the head. The tail has a narrow yellow band across its
end, and on the wings are the small red spots like sealing-
wax that are responsible for the bird’s queer name.

It is difficult to think of a single bird when one usually
sees a flock. Sociable to a degree, the waxwings rove
about a neighborhood in scattered companies, large and
small, to feed on the cedar or juniper berries, choke berries,
dogwood, and woodbine berries, elder, haw, and other small
wild fruits on which they feed very greedily; then move on

82 BIRDS

to some other place where their favorite fruit abounds.
Happily, they care very little about our cultivated fruit
and rarely touch it. A good way to invite many kinds of
birds to visit one’s neighborhood is to plant plenty of
berry-bearing trees and shrubs. The birds themselves
plant most of the wild ones, by dropping the undigested
seeds far and wide. How could the seeds of many species
be distributed over thousands of miles of land without
their help? Cedarbirds are responsible for no small part
of the beauty of the lanes and hedgerows throughout their
wide range from sea to sea and from Canada to Mexico and
Central America. Nature makes her creatures work
for her, whether they know they are helping her plans or
not.

When a flock of cedarbirds enters a neighborhood, there
is no noisy warning of their coming. Gentle, refined in
manners, courteous to one another, almost silent visitors,
they sit for hours nearly motionless in a tree while digesting
a recent feast. An occasional bird may shift his position,
then, politely settling himself again without disturbing the
rest of the company, remain quiet as before. Lisping,
twee-twee-zee call-notes, like a hushed whispered whistle,
are the only sounds the visitors make. How different from
a roving flock of screaming, boisterous blue jays!

When rising to take wing, the squad still keeps together,
flying evenly and swiftly in close ranks on a level with the
tree-tops along a straight course; or, wheeling suddenly,
the birds dive downward into a promising, leafy restaur-
ant. Enormous numbers of insects are consumed by a
flock. The elm-beetle, which destroys the beauty, if not
the life, of some of our finest shade trees, would be exter-
minated if there were cedarbirds enough. One flock

BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER 83

within a week rid a New England village of this pest that
had eaten the leaves on the double row of elms which had
been the glory of its broad main street for more than a hun-
dred years. When you see these birds in an orchard, look
for better apples there next year. Cankerworms are a bonne
bouchée to them; so are grubs and caterpillars, especially
cutworms.

Some time after all the other birds, except the tardy little
goldfinch, have nested, the waxwings give up the flocking
habit and live in pairs. Toward the end of June, when
many birds are rearing the second brood, a couple begin
to carry grass, shreds of bark, twine, fine roots, catkins,
moss, or rags—any or all of these building materials—to
some tree, usually a fruit tree or a cedar which is ever their
favorite; and then, let it be observed, what is not always
the case with humans—the birds’ manners at home are
even better than when moving in society abroad. The
devoted male brings dainties to his brooding mate and
helps her feed the family.

The Scarlet Tanager

Length—7 to 7.5 inches. About one fourth smaller than
the robin.

Male—In spring plumage: Brilliant scarlet, with black
wings and tail. Under wing coverts grayish white. In,
autumn: Similar to female.

Female—Olive above; wings and tail dark, lightly mar-
gined with olive. Underneath greenish yellow.

Range—North America to northern Canada boundaries, '
and southward in winter to South America.

Migrations—May. October. Summer resident.

84 , BIRDS

The gorgeous coloring of the scarlet tanager has been its
snare and destruction. The densest evergreens could not
altogether hide this blazing target for the sportsman’s gun,
too often fired at the instigation of city milliners. “Fine
feathers make fine birds’”—and cruel, silly women, the
adage might be adapted for latter-day use. This rarely
beautiful tanager, thanks to them, is now only an infrequent
flash of beauty in our countryside.

Instinct leads it to be chary of its charms; and whereas it
used to be one of the commonest of bird neighbors, it is
now shy and solitary—a frequenter of woodlands. An
ideal resort for it is a grove of oak or swamp maple near a
stream or pond where it can bathe.

High in the tree-tops he perches, all unsuspected by the
visitor passing through the woods below, until a burst of
rich, sweet, mellow melody directs the field-glasses sud-
denly upward. There we detect him carolling loudly and
cheerfully, an apparition of beauty. Because of their
similar coloring, the black-winged scarlet tanager and
the all-red crested cardinal are sometimes confounded, but
an instant’s comparison of the two birds shows nothing
in common except red feathers, and even those of quite
different shades. The inconspicuous olive-green and
yellow of the female tanager’s plumage is another striking
instance of Nature’s protective coloration; for if our bright-
colored birds have become shockingly few under existing
conditions, would any at all remain were the females
prominent, like the males, as they brood upon the nest?
Both tanagers construct a rather disorderly looking nest
of fibres and sticks, through which daylight can be seen,
where it rests securely upon a low horizontal branch of
some oak or pine tree; put as soon as three or four bluish-

BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER 85

green eggs have been laid in the cradle, off goes the male,
wearing his tell-tale coat, to a distant tree. There he
chip-churrs by the hour and sings his sweetest carol to
the patient, brooding mate, returning to her side only long
enough to feed her with the insects and berries that form
their food.

Happily for the young birds’ fate, they are clothed at
first in dull colors, and later with only here and there a
bright touch of scarlet, to prove their claim to the parent
whose gorgeous plumage must be their admiration. But
after the moulting season it would be a wise tanager that
knew its own father. His scarlet feathers are now re-
placed by an autumn coat of olive and yellow not unlike
his mate’s.

. The Summer Tanager

Length—7.5 inches. About one-fourth smaller than the
robin.

Male—Uniform red. Wings and tail like the body.

Female—Upper parts yellowish olive-green; underneath
inclining to yellow.

Range—Tropical portions of two Americas and eastern
United States. Most common in Southern states. Rare
north of Pennsylvania. Winters in the tropics.

Migrations—In Southern states: April. October. Ir-
regular migrant north of the Carolinas.

Thirty years ago, it is recorded that so far north as New
Jersey the summer redbird was quite as common as any
ofthethrushes. In the Southern states it is still one of the
most familiar birds in the orange groves, orchards, and
woods, especially open woods of pine and oak. It, too, is

86 BIRDS

a “smooth-headed redbird,” but fire-red all over, without
a black feather on him whereby he may be readily dis-
tinguished from the black-winged scarlet tanager.

Of the three hundred and fifty species of tanagers in the
tropics, only two think it worth while to visit the eastern
United States and one of these adventurous ones, the scar-
let tanager, frequently suffers because he starts too early.
Tf all should suddenly decide to come North some spring
and spend the summer, our woods would be filled with some
of the most brilliant and gorgeous birds in the world.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SWALLOWS

Purrpte Martin—Barn Swattow—Curr or EAves
SwaLLow—Bank SwaLLOw—TREE SWALLOW

Apparently there could be no way of earning a living
more delightful for a bird than sailing about in the air all
day, playing cross-tag on the wing with its companions,
skimming low across the meadows, ponds, and marshes, or
rising high above them and darting hither and thither wher-
everfancy leads, without knowing what itmeansto feel tired.
Swallows are as much in their element when in the air as
fish are in water; but of course they are not there simply for
fun. Their long, blade-like wings, which cut the air with
such easy but powerful strokes, propel them enormous dis-
tances before they have collected enough mosquitoes, gnats,
and other little gauzy-winged insects to supply such great
energy and satisfy their hunger. With mouth widely
gaping, leaving an opening in the front of their broad
heads that stretches from ear to ear, they must get a
tremendous draft down their little throats, but they
gather in a dinner piecemeal just as the chimney-swift,
whippoorwill, and nighthawk do. Viscid saliva in the
bird’s mouth glues the little victims as fast as if they were
caught on sticky fly-paper; then, when enough have been
trapped to make a pellet, the swallow swallows them in a

87

88 BIRDS

ball, although one swallow does not make a dinner, any
more than one swallow makes a summer.

These sociable birds delight to live in companies, even
during the nesting season when most feathered couples,
however glad to flock at other times, prefer to be alone.
As soon as the young birds can take wing, one family party
unites with another, one colony with another, until often
enormous numbers assemble in the marshes in August and
September. You see them strung like beads along the
telegraph wires, perched on the fences, circling over the
meadows and ponds, zigzagging across the sky. Millions
of swallows have been noted in some of these autumnal
flocks. Usually they go to sleep among the reeds and
grasses in a favorite marsh where the bands return year
after year; but some prefer trees. Comparatively little
perching is done except at night, for swallows’ feet are very
small and weak.

At sunrise, the birds scatter in small bands to pick up on
the wing the long-continued meal, which lasts till late in
the afternoon. Those who have gone too far abroad and
_ must travel back to the roost after sundown shoot across
the sky with incredible swiftness lest darkness overtake
them. Relying upon their speed of flight to carry them
beyond the reach of enemies, they migrate boldly by day-
light instead of at night as the timid little vireos, warblers,
and many other birdsdo. During every day the swallows
are with us they must consume billions of blood-sucking in-
sects that would pester other animals besides ourselves.
Think of the mosquito bites alone that they prevent!
Every one of us is greatly in their debt.

Male and female swallows are dressed so nearly alike that
one must know them very well indeed to tell one from the

THE SWALLOWS 89

other, even when they are close at hand. Both twitter
merrily but neither really sings.

More than any other bird family, and more rapidly, the
swallows are becoming dependent for shelter upon man.

The Purple Martin

Length—7 to 8 inches. Two or three inches shorter than
the robin.

Male—Rich glossy black with bluish and purple reflec-
tions; duller black on wings and tail. Wings rather
longer than the tail, which is forked.

Female—More brownish and mottled; grayish below.

Range—Peculiar to America. Penetrates from Arctic
Circle to South America.

Migrations—Late April. Early September. Summer
resident.

There is a picturesque old inn beside a post road in New
Jersey with a five-storied martin house set up on a pole
above its quaint swinging sign. For more than thirty years
a record was kept on the pole showing the dates of the
coming and going of the martins in April and September,
which did not vary by more than two or three days during
all that time. The inn-keeper locked up in his safe every
night the registers on which were entered the arrivals and
departures of his human guests, but he valued far more the
record of his bird visitors which interested everybody who
stopped at his inn.

One day, while he was away, a man who was painting a
fence for him thought he would surprise him by freshening

90 BIRDS

up the old, weatherbeaten pole. Alas! He painted over
every precious mark. You may be sure the surprise re-
coiled upon him like a boomerang when the wrathful inn-
keeper returned. However, the martins continue to come
back to their old home year after year and rear their
broods on little heaps of leaves in every room in the house,
which is the cheering fact of the sad story.

These glossy, blue-black iridescent swallows, grayish
white underneath, the largest of their graceful tribe, have
always been great favorites. Even the Indians in the
Southern states used to hang gourds for them to nest in
about their camps—a practice continued by the Negroes
around their cabins to this day. Strangely enough these
birds which nested and slept in hollow trees before the com-
ing of the white men, were among the first to take ad-
vantage of his presence. Now, in the eastern United
States, at least, the pampered darlings of luxury positively
refuse to live where people do not put up houses for their
comfort. In the sparsely settled West, however, they still
condescend to live in trees, but only when they must, like
the chimney-swifts, which, by the way, are not related.
People persist in calling them chimney swallows, which is
precisely what they are not. Not even the little house
wren has adapted itself so quickly to civilized men’s homes
as the swift and purple martin.

Intelligent people, who are only just beginning to realize
what birds do for us and how very much more they might
be induced to do, are putting up boxes for the martins, not
only near their own houses, that the birds may rid the air
of mosquitoes, but in their gardens and orchards that in-
calculable numbers of injurious pests in the winged stage
may be destroyed. When martins return to us in spring

THE SWALLOWS 91

from Central and South America, where they have passed
the winter, insects are just beginning to fly, and if they can
be captured then, before they have a chance to lay their
eggs, how much trouble and money are saved for the farm-
ers by their tireless allies, the swallows. Unfortunately,
purple martins are not so common at the North as they
were before the coming of those saucy little immigrants,
the English sparrows, who take possession, by fair means
or by foul, of every house they can find. In the South,
where the martins are still very numerous, a peach grower
has set up in his orchard rows of poles, with a house on
each, either for them or for the equally useful bluebirds.
He says these bird partners are of inestimable value in
keeping his fruit trees free from insects. The curculio, one
of the worst enemies every fruit grower has to fight, de-
stroying as it does millions of dollars’ worth of crops every
year, is practically unknown in that Georgia planter’s
orchard. Some day. farmers all over the United States
will wake up and copy his good idea.

A colony of martins circling about a house give it a
delightful, home-like air. Their very soft, sweet conversa-
tion with one another as they fly, sounds like rippling,’
musical laughter.

Barn Swallow

Length—6.5 to 7 inches. A trifle longer than the English
sparrow. Apparently considerably larger, because of its
wide wing-spread.

Male—Glistening steel-blue shading to black above. Chin,
breast, and underneath bright chestnut-brown and
brilliant glistening buff. A partial collar of steel-blue.
Tail very deeply forked and slender.

92 BIRDS

Female—Smaller and paler, with shorter outer tail feathers,
making the fork less prominent.

Range+-Throughout North America. Winters in tropics
of both Americas.

Migrations—April. September. Summer resident.

Happily, the beautiful barn swallow is too familiar to
need description. Wheeling about our barns and houses,
skimming over the fields, flashing in the sunlight, playing
“cross tag” with its friends at evening, when the insects,
too, are on the wing, gyrating, darting, and gliding through
the air, it is no more possible to adequately describe the
exquisite grace of a swallow’s flight than the glistening buff
ofits breast. The deep fork in his tail enables him to steer
himself with those marvellously quick, erratic turns, which
make his course through the air resemble forked lightning.
But with what exquisite grace he can also glide and skim
across the water, fields, and meadows without an apparent
movement of the wing! His flight seems the very poetry
of motion. The ease of it accounts for the very wide dis~
tribution of barn swallows from southern Brazil in winter
to Greenland and Alaska in summer. What a journey to
take twice a year! But it is as easy for them, perhaps, as
is the full-fed millionaire’s annual flitting to Palm Beach.

High up on some beam, too high for the children to reach
let us hope, a pair of barn swallows will plaster their
mud cradle. Perhaps the only time one can ever catch
them with their feet on the earth is when they are gather-
ing pellets of wet soil in their bills at some roadside puddle.
Each mud pill must be carried to the barn and fastened
on to the rafter. Countless trips are made to the puddle

THE SWALLOWS 93

before a sufficient number of pellets are worked into the
deep mud walls of the ample nursery. Usually grass is
mixed with the mud, but some swallows make their bricks
without straw. A lining of fine hay and plenty of feathers
from the chicken yard seem to be essential for their com-
fort, which is a pity, because almost always chicken feath-
ers are infested with lice, and lice kill more young birds
than we like to think about.’ When there is a nestful of
fledglings to feed, sticky little pellets of insects, caught on
the wing, are carried to them by both parents from day-
light to dusk.

The Cliff or Eaves Swallow

The barn swallow, as we have seen, chooses to nest upon
the rafters inside the barn, but the eaves swallow is content
to stay outside under the shelter of a projecting roof.
Before men built barns on this continent, the nest was
cemented to the face of a cliff and in some regions still the
bird is known as the cliff swallow. In such a place you
find not one, but several or many queer mud tenements
plastered in a row against the wall, for eaves swallows are
always remarkably sociable, even at the nesting season.
A photograph of a colony in Ohio shows one hundred and
fifteen nests nearly all of which touch one another. The
entrance to the flask-shaped nest is long drawn out and
small.

Although so often noticed circling about outbuildings on
the farm, one may know by the rusty patch on the lower
part of his steel-blue back, the crescent-shaped white mark
on his forehead, and the notched, not deeply forked tail,
that the eaves swallow is not the barn swallow, which it
otherwise resembles.

94 BIRDS

The Bank Swallow

Perhaps you have seen a sand bank somewhere, prob-
ably near a river or pond, where the side of the bank was
filled with holes as if a small cannon had been trained
against it as a target. In and out of the holes fly the
smallest of the swallows, that are sometimes, with good
reason, called sand martins. No lovely metallic blue or
glistening buff adorns their dull plumage, which is plain
brownish gray above, white underneath, with a grayish
band across the breast. Only their cousin, the rough-
winged swallow, whose breast is brownish gray, is so
plainly dressed.

The giggling twitter of the bank swallows as they wheel
and dart through the air proves that they are never too
busy hunting for a dinner to speak a cheerful word to their
friends. Year after year a colony will return to a favorite
bank, whose face has been honeycombed with such care.
Think of the labor and patience required for so small a bird
to dig a tunnel two feet deep, more or less, and enlarged at
the far end! Some nests have been placed as far as four
feet from the entrance. One is not surprised at the big
kingfisher, who also tunnels a hole in a bank for his family,
because his long, strong bill makes digging comparatively
easy; but for the small, weak-footed swallow, the perform-
ance is remarkable.

The Tree Swallow

Probably this is the most abundant swallow that we
have; certainly countless numbers assemble every year in
the Long Island and Jersey marshes, and perch on the tele-

THE SWALLOWS 95

graph wires, dashing off for an insect suddenly as if they
had received an electric shock. They skim, with much
circling, above the meadows and streams in a perfect
ecstasy of flight. At a little distance the bird appears to
be black above and white below, but as he suddenly wheels
past, you see that his coat is a lustrous, dark steel-green.
Immature birdsare brownish gray. All have white breasts,
and are frequently referred to as white-breasted swallows.

. As these swallows are the only members of their family
to spend the winter in the southeastern United States, they
can easily arrive at the North some time before their rela-
tives from the tropics overtake them. And they are the
last toleave. Myriads remain in the vicinity of New York
until the middle of October. There is plenty of time to
rear two broods, which accounts for the great size of the
flocks. By the Fourth of July the young of the first
broods are off hunting for little gauzy-winged insects over
the low lands; and about a month later the parents join
their flock, bringing with them more youngsters than you
could count. They sleep every night in the marshes,
clinging to the reeds.

Like the cliff swallow, the tree swallow is fast losing the
right toitsname. It takes so kindly to the boxes we set up
for martins, bluebirds, and wrens that, where sparrows do
not interfere, it now prefers them to the hollow trees, which
once were its only shelter. But some tree swallows still
cling to old-fashioned ways and at least rest in hollow
trees and stumps, even if they do not nest in them. Some
day they may become as dependent upon us as the martins
and, like them, refuse to nest where boxes are not provided.

CHAPTER IX

THE COMPREHENSIVE SPARROW TRIBE
AND SOME OF ITS MULTITUDINOUS KIN

Inpico Bunting — Rose-BREASTED GROSBEAK — CAR-
DINAL—LOWHEE—JUNCO—SNOWFLAKE— Fox Spar-
Row —Sone Sparrow—Swamp Sparrow — FiIetp
SparRow—CuHIprING SPARROW— TREE SPARROW—
WHITE-THROATED Sparrow — WHITE- CROWNED
SparRow—ENGcuisH SPARROW—VESPER SPaARROW—
GoLDFINcH—PURPLE FINCH

Like the poor, sparrows are always with us. A forced
familiarity with mischief-making members of the class has
bred contempt for them, even among many bird lovers.
There is not a day in the year when you cannot find at
least one member of the great tribe which comprises one
seventh of all our birds—by far the largest North American
family. What is the secret of their triumphant numbers?

Many members of the hardy prolific clan, wearing dull
brown and gray-streaked feathers, in perfect color har-
mony with the grassy, bushy places or dusty roadsides
where they live, are usually overlooked by enemies in
search of adinner. Undoubtedly their protective coloring
has much to do with their increase. They are small birds
mostly, not one so large as a robin.

Sparrows being seed eaters chiefly, although none of the

96

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 97

tribe refuses insect meat in season, and all give it to their
nestlings, there is never a time when they cannot find food
even at the frozen North where some weedy stalks project
above the snow. They are not fastidious. Fussy birds,
like fussy people, have a hard time in this world; but the
whole sparrow tribe, with few exceptions, make the best of
things as they find them and readily adapt themselves to
whatever conditions they meet. How wonderfully that
triumphant little immigrant, the English sparrow, has
adjusted himself to this new land!

Members of the more aristocratic finch, bunting, and
grosbeak branches of the family, however, who wear
brighter clothes, pay the penalty with decreasing numbers as
‘our boasted civilization surrounds them. Gay feathers
afford a shining mark. Naturally birds of bright feather
prefer to live among protective trees. They are delightful
singers, and so, indeed, are some of their plain little spar-
row cousins.

Not alone the grosbeaks, but all the members of the
family, have strong, conical bills well suited to crush seeds,
and gizzards, like a chicken’s, to grind | them fine. These
little grist-mills within the birds’ bodies extract all the
nourishment there is from the seed. The sparrow tribe
do immense service by destroying the seeds of weeds,
which, but for them, would quickly overrun the farmer’s
fields and choke his crops. Because these hardy gleaners
ean pick up a living almost anywhere, they do not need to
make very long journeys every spring and autumn. Their
migrations are comparatively short when undertaken at .
all. As a rule their flight is labored, slow, and rather
heavy—just the opposite of the wonderfully swift and
graceful flight of the swallows.

98 BIRDS

The Indigo Bunting

Length—5.5to6inches. Smaller than the English sparrow.

Male—Rich blue, with verdigris tints; deepest on head.
Wings, tail, and lower back with brownish wash, most
prominent in autumn plumage. Quills of wings and
tail deep blue, margined with light.

Female—Brown above; yellowish on breast, shading to
white underneath, and indistinctly streaked. Wings and
tail darkest, sometimes with slight tinge of blue in outer
webs and on shoulders.

Range—North America, from Hudson Bay to Panama.
Most common in eastern part of United States. Win-
ters in Central America and Mexico.

Migrations—May. September. Summer resident.

The “glowing indigo” of this tropical-looking visitor
that so delighted Thoreau in the Walden woods, often
seems only the more intense by comparison with the blue
sky, against which it stands out in relief as the bird perches,
singing, in a low tree-top. What has this gaily dressed,
dapper little cavalier in common with his dingy sparrow
cousins that haunt the ground and delight in dust-baths,
leaving their feathers no whit more dingy than they were
before, and in temper, as in plumage, suggesting more of
earth than of heaven? Apparently he has nothing, and
yet the small brown bird in the roadside thicket, which you
have misnamed a sparrow, not noticing the glint of blue in
her shoulders and tail, is his mate. Besides the structural
resemblances, which are, of course, the only ones consid-
ered by ornithologists in classifying birds, the indigo
buntings have several sparrow-like traits. They feed

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 99

upon the ground, mainly upon seeds of grasses and herbs,
with a few insects interspersed to give relish to the grain;
they build grassy nests in low bushes or tall, rank grass;
and their flight is short and labored. Borders of woods,
roadside thickets, and even garden shrubbery, with open
pasture lots for foraging grounds near by, are favorite
haunts of these birds, that return again and again to some
preferred spot. Their metallic cheep, cheep, warns you to
keep away from the little blue-white eggs, hidden away
securely in the bushes; and the nervous tail twitchings and
jerkings are pathetic to see. Happily for the safety of
their nest, the brooding mother has no tell-tale feathers to
attract the eye. Dense foliage no more conceals the male
bird’s brilliant coat than it can the tanager’s, or oriole’s.

With no attempt at concealment, which he doubtless
understands would be quite impossible, he chooses some
high, conspicuous perch to which he mounts by easy
stages, singing as he goes; and there begins a loud and
rapid strain that promises much, but growing weaker and
weaker, ends as if the bird were either out of breath or too
weak to finish. Then suddenly he begins the same song
over again, and keeps up this continuous performance for
nearly half an hour. The noonday heat of an August
day that silences nearly every other voice, seems to give to
the indigo bird’s only fresh animation and timbre.

The Rose-breasted Grosbeak

Length—7.75 to 8.5 inches. About one fifth smaller than
the robin.

Male—Head and upper parts black. Breast has rose-
carmine shieldjshaped patch, often extending down-

’

100 BIRDS

ward to the centre of the abdomen. Wing linings rose.
Underneath, tail quills, and two spots on wings white.
Conspicuous, blunt beak.

Female—Brownish, with dark streakings, like a sparrow.
Light sulphur yellow under wings.

Range—Eastern North America, from southern Canada to
Panama.

Migrations—Early May. September. Summer resident.

Among birds, as among humans, it is the father who
lends his name to the family, however difficult it may be to
know the mother by it. Who that had not studied the
books would recognize Mrs. Scarlet Tanager by her name?
Or Mrs. Purple Finch? Or Mrs. Indigo Bunting? Or Mrs.
Rose-breasted Grosbeak? The last-named lady has not a
rose-colored feather on her, yet she is not a feminist. She
is a streaked, brown bird, resembling an overgrown spar-
row, with a thick, exaggerated finch bill and a conspicuous,
white eyebrow. When her husband wears his winter
clothes in the tropics, his feathers are said to be similar to
hers, so that even his name, then, does not fit. But when
he returns to the United States in May he is, in very truth,
a rose-breasted grosbeak, a splendidly handsome fellow.
Perhaps before you get a glimpse of the lovely brilliant rose
feathers that are his best means of introduction, you may
hear a thin eek call-note from some tree-top, or better still,
listen to the sweet, pure, mellow, joyously warbled song,
now loud and clear, now rolling and softly tender, that puts
him in the first rank of our songsters.

His special fondness for potato bugs, among other beetle
pests, endears him to the farmers; but dependence upon in-
sect diet necessitates migration.

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 101

The Cardinal

Length—8 to 9 inches. A little smaller than the robin.

Male—Brilliant or faded cardinal; chin and band around
bill black. Beak stout and red. Crest conspicuous. In
winter dress, wings washed with gray.

Female—Dove color above, washed with dull red shading
to gray below. Tail shorter than male’s. Crest, wings,
and tail reddish. Breast sometimes tinged with red.

Range—Eastern United States. A Southern bird, becom-
ing more and more common during the summer in
states north of Virginia, especially in Ohio, south of
which it is resident throughout the year.

Migrations—Resident rather than migrating birds, usually
remaining in localities where they have found their way.

Among the numerous names by which this brilliant bird
is known it has become immortalized under the title of Mr.
James Lane Allen’s exquisite book, “The Kentucky Car-
dinal.” Here, while we are given a most charmingly sym-
pathetic, delicate account of the bird “who has only to be
seen or heard, and Death adjusts an arrow,”’ it is the car-
dinal’s pathetic fate that impresses one most. Gene
Stratton-Porter in “The Song of the Cardinal”’ has written
a charming life study of him—really a bird novel—which
is less well known that many of that most popular author’s
“best sellers.”

The bird appears to be a haughty autocrat, a sort of “F,
F. V.” among the feathered tribes, as, indeed, his title,
“Virginia redbird,” has been unkindly said to imply.
Bearing himself with a refined and courtly dignity, not
stooping to soil his feet by walking on the ground like the

102 BIRDS

more democratic robin, or even condescending below the
level of bushes, the cardinal is literally a shining example
of self-conscious superiority—a bird to call forth respect
and admiration.

Few lady birds sing—an accomplishment usually given to
their lovers only, to help woothem. But the female cardi-
nalis a charming singer with a softer voice than her mate’s—
most becoming to one of her sex—and an individual song
quite different from his loud, clear whistle, Cheer, cheer, cheer!
Good cheer; good cheer! Cheer! like the notes of a fife.

Cardinalsnever migrate asthe rose-breasted grosbeak and
so many of our fair-weather feathered friends do.. That is
because they can live upon the weed seeds and the buds of
trees and bushes in winter, as comfortably as upon insects
in summer, and forage in the grain fields or in the woods,
according to the season. It pays not to be too particular.

The Towhee

Length—8 to 8.5 inches. About one fifth smaller than the
robin.

Male—Upper parts black, sometimes margined with
rusty. Breast white; chestnut color on sides and rump.
Wings marked with white. Three outer feathers of
tail striped with white, conspicuous in flight.

Female—Brownish where the male is black. Underneath
shading from chestnut to white in the centre.

Range—From Labrador to the Southern states; west to
the Rocky Mountains.

Migrations—April. September and October. Summer
resident. Rarely a winter resident at the North.

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 103
The unobtrusive Towhee, Chewink, Ground Robin,

Joree, or Ground Bunting, as this common bird is var-
iously called, is not infrequently mistaken for a robin, be-
cause of the reddish chestnut on its under parts. Careful
observation, however, shows important distinctions. It is
rather smaller and darker in color; its carriage and form are
not those of a robin, but of the finch; it hops more ener-
getically and precisely, like a mechanical toy. The female
is smaller still, and has an olive tint in her brown back.
Her eggs are inconspicuous in color, dirty white speckled
with brown, and laid in a sunken nest on the ground. Dead
leaves and twigs abound, and form, as the anxious mother
fondly hopes, a safe hiding place for her brood. Such
careful concealment, however, brings peril, for the most
cautious bird-lover may, and sometimes does, inadver-
tently set his foot on the hidden nest.

Because he was hatched in a ground nest and loves to
scratch about on the ground for insects, making the dead
leaves and earth rubbish fly like any barn-yard fowl, the
towhee is very often called the ground robin. Che-wink, or
tow-hee comes the brisk call from wherever the busy bunting
is foraging. The chickadee, whippoorwill, phoebe, pewee
and killdeer also tell you their names, but this bird an-
nounces himself by two so you need make no mistake.

Rarely does he leave the ground except to sing his love-
song. Then, mounting no higher than a bush or low
branch, he entrances his sweetheart, if not the human
critic, with a song to which Ernest Thompson Seton sup-
plies the well-fitted words: Chuck-burr, pill-a will-a-
will-a.

The white feathers on the towhee’s short, rounded wings
and on the sides of his tail are conspicuous signals, as he

104 BIRDS

flies jerkily to the nearest cover. A bird with such small
wings could not be expected to be a graceful flyer.

1 The Junco

Length—5.5 to 6.5 inches. About the size of the English
sparrow.

Male—Upper parts slate-colored; darkest on head and
neck, which are sometimes almost black and marked like
a cowl. Gray on breast, like a vest. Underneath
white. Several outer tail feathers white, conspicuous
in flight.

Female—Lighter gray, inclining to brown.

Range—North America. Not common in warm latitudes.
Breeds in the Catskills and northern New England.

Migrations—September. April. Winter resident.

When the skies are leaden and the first flurries of snow
warn us that winter is near, flocks of juncos, or slate-
colored snow birds as they are sometimes called, that re-
flect the leaden skies on their backs, and the grayish-white
snow on their breasts, come from the North to spend the
winter. A few enter New England as early as September,
but by Thanksgiving increased numbers are foraging for
their dinner among the roadside thickets, in the furrows of
ploughed fields, on the ground near evergreens, about the
barn-yard and even at the dog’s plate beyond the kitchen
door. They are easily attracted close to the house by
waste canary seed and sweepings from the hay loft.

Notice how abruptly the slate-gray color of the junco’s
mantle ends in a straight line across his light breast, and
how, when he flies away, the white feathers on either side

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 105

of his tail serve as signals to his friends to follow. Such
signals are specially useful when birds are migrating; with-
out them, many stragglers from the flocks might get lost.
Juncos, which are extremely sociable birds, except when
nesting, need help in keeping together. A crisp, frosty ’éstp
call-note signifies alarm and away flies the flock. They are
quiet, unassuming visitors, modest in manner and in
dress; but how we should miss them from the winter land-
scape!

The Snowflake

In the northern United States and Canada, it is the
snowflake or snow bunting, a sparrowy little bird with a
great deal of white among its rusty brown feathers and an
exaggerated white eyebrow that runs around the cheek
also, that is the familiar winter visitor. Instead of hop-
ping, like most of its tribe, it walks over the frozen fields
and rarely perches higher than a bush or fence rail, for it
comes very near being a ground bird. Delighting in icy
blasts and snow storms, flocks of these irrepressibly cheer-
ful little foragers fatten on a seed diet picked up where
other birds would starve.

The Fox Sparrow

Length—6.5 to 7.25 inches. Nearly an inch longer than
the English sparrow.

Male and Female—Upper parts reddish brown, varied with
ash-gray, brightest on lower back, wings, and tail.
Bluish slate about the head. Underneath whitish; the
throat, breast, and sides heavily marked with arrow-
heads and oblong dashes of reddish brown and blackish.

106 BIRDS
i

‘Range—Alaska and Manitoba to southern United States.
Winters chiefly south of Illinois and Virginia. Occas-
ional stragglers remain North most of the winter.

Migrations—March. November. Most common in the
migrations.

There will be little difficulty in naming this largest, most
plump and reddest of all the sparrows, whose fox-colored
feathers, rather than any malicious cunning of its dis-
position, are responsible for the name it bears. The male
bird is incomparably the finest singer among the sparrows.
His faint éseep call-note gives no indication of his vocal
powers that some bleak morning in early March suddenly
send a thrill of pleasure through you. It is the most wel-
come “glad surprise”’ of all the spring. Without a pre-
liminary twitter, the full, rich, luscious tones, with just a
tinge of plaintiveness in them, are poured forth with spon-
taneous abandon. Such a song at such a time is enough to
summon anybody with a musical ear out of doors to where
the delicious notes issue from the leafless shrubbery by the
roadside. Watch the singer until the song ends, when he
will quite likely descend among the dead leaves on the
ground and scratch among them like any barn-yard fowl,
but somehow contriving to use both feet at once in the
operation, as no chicken ever could. He seems to take
special delight in damp thickets, where the insects with
which he varies his seed diet are plentiful.

The Song Sparrow

Length—6 to 6.5 inches. About the same size as the
English sparrow.

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 107

Male and Female—Brown head, with three longitudinal
gray bands. Brown stripe on sides of throat. Brown-
ish-gray back, streaked with rufous. Underneath gray,
shading to white, heavily streaked with darkest brown.
A black spot on breast. Wings without bars. Tail
plain grayish brown.

Range—North America, from Fur Countries to the Gulf
States. Winters from southern Illinois and Massa-
chusetts to the Gulf.

Migrations—March. November. A few birds remain at
the North all the year.

Here is a veritable bird neighbor, if ever there was one;
at home in our gardens and hedges, not often farther away
than the roadside, abundant everywhere during nearly
every month in the year, and yet was there ever one too
many? There is scarcely an hour in the day, too, when its
delicious, ecstatic song may not be heard; in the darkness
of midnight, just before dawn, when its voice is almost the
first to respond to the chipping sparrow’s wiry trill and the
robin’s warble; in the cool of the morning, the heat of noon,
the hush of evening—ever the simple, homely, sweet
melody that every good American has learned to love in
childhood. What the bird lacks in beauty it abundantly
. makes up in good cheer. Not at all retiring, though never
bold, it chooses some conspicuous perch on a bush or tree
to deliver its outburst of song, and sings away with serene
unconsciousness. The most familiar song—for this tune-
ful sparrow has at least six similar but slightly different
melodies in his repertoire—begins with a full round note
three times repeated, then dashes off into a sweet, short,
lively, intricate strain that almost trips itself in its hasty

108 BIRDS

utterance. Few people whistle well enough to imitate it.
Few birds can rival the musical ecstasy.

Artlessly self-confident, not at all bashful, the song spar-
row mounts to a conspicuous perch when he sings, rather
than let his efforts be muffled by foliage. You will not
mistake him for an English sparrow if you notice his dis-
tinguishing marks: the fine, dark streaks on his light
breast that tend to form a larger blotch in the centre, like a
cravat. You see him singing on the extended branch of
some low tree, on the topmost twig of a bush, on a fence,
or on a piazza railing from which he dives downward into
the grass, or flies straight along into the bushes, his tail
working like a pump handle as if to help his flight. Very
rarely he flies upward.

The Swamp Sparrow

Where sora rails thread their way among the rushes, and
red-winged blackbirds, marsh wrens, and Maryland
yellow-throats like to live, there listen for the tweet-tweet-
tweet of the swamp sparrow. It is a sweet but rather mo-
notonous little song that he repeats over and over again to
the mate who is busy about her grassy nest in a tussock not
far away, but well hidden among the rank swamp growth.

It is not difficult to tell the plain gray-breasted swamp
sparrow from the larger song sparrow with the streaked
breast.

The Field Sparrow

While the neighborly song sparrow and the swamp spar-
row delight to be near water, the field sparrow chooses to
live in dry uplands where stunted bushes and cedars cover

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 109

the hills and overgrown old fields, and towhees, meadow-
larks and brown thrashers keep him company. He is not
fond of human society and usually flies away with waver-
ing, uncertain flight from bush to bush rather than submit
to a close scrutiny of his bright chestnut-brown back and
crown, flesh-colored bill, gray eyebrow, grayish throat,
buffy breast and light feet. Because his tail js a trifle
longer than the chippy’s he is slighty larger than the smal-
lest of our sparrows. Listen for him some evening after
sunset when his simple vesper hymn, clear, plaintive,
sweet, rings from the bush where he perches especially for
the performance. Scarcely any two field sparrows sing
precisely alike. Most of them, however, begin with three
clear, smooth, leisurely whistles—cher-wee, cher-wee, cher-
wee—then hurry through the other notes—cheo, cheo-dee-
dee-eee, e, e—which run rapidly into a trill before they die
away. Others reverse the time and diminish the measures
toward the close. However sung, the song, which makes
the uplands tuneful all day and every day from April to
August, does not vary its quality, which is as fine as the
vesper sparrow’s.

Hatched in a bush, and almost never seen apart from
one, this humble little bird might well be called the bush
sparrow.

The Chipping Sparrow

Who does not know this humblest, most unassuming,
and tamest little neighbor that comes hopping to our very
doors wearing a reddish crown, bordered by black, a wide
gray eyebrow, and grayish underparts for its distin-
guishing marks? This mite of a bird with one talent
that it so persistently uses all the day and every day

110 BIRDS

throughout the summer—a high, wiry trill, like the buzz of
the locust—may be heard in the dawn before the sky
grows even gray, or in the middle of the night; it starts the
morning chorus and after all other voices are hushed in the
evening, its tremolo is the last bed-song to come from the
trees. But however monotonous such cheerfulness some-
times becomes when we are surfeited with real songs from
dozens of other throats, there are long periods of midsum-
mer silence that it punctuates most acceptably.

Its call-note, chip! chip! from which several of its popu-
lar names are derived, is altogether different from the trill
which must do duty as a song to express love, content-
ment, everything that so amiable a little nature might feel
impelled to voice.

Both birds carry fine twigs and grasses for the founda-
tion of the nest and, later, long horse hairs which they coil
around and around toforma lining. Where do they get so
many hairs? A few might have been switched out of the
horses’ tails in the stable yard or dropped on the road, but
what amazingly bright eyes the birds must have to find
them, and how curious that chippies alone, of all the feath-
ered tribe, should always insist upon using them to line
their cradles.

The Tree Sparrow

When the friendly little chippy leaves us in autumn, this
similar but larger cousin comes into the United States from
the North, and some people say they cannot tell the two
birds apart or the field sparrow from either of them. The
tree sparrow, which, unlike the chippy, has no black on his
forehead, wears an indistinct black spot on the centre of his
breast where the chippy is plain gray, and the field sparrow

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN I11

is buffy. The tree sparrow has a parti-colored bill, the
upper-half black, the lower yellow with a black tip, while
the chippy has an entirely black bill, and the field sparrow
a flesh-colored one. Only the tree sparrow, which is
larger than either of the others, although only as large as a
full-grown English sparrow, spends the winter in the
northern United States, and by that time his confusing
relatives are too far south for comparison. It is in spring
and autumn that their ranges over-lap and there is any
possibility of confusion.

Professor Beal of the Department of Agriculture,
estimates that in a single state—Iowa—the tree sparrows
alone destroy eight hundred and seventy-five tons of
noxious weed seeds every winter. Then how incalculably
great must be our debt to the entire sparrow tribe!

Tree sparrows welcome other winter birds to their
friendly flocks that glean a comfortable living from the
weed stalks protruding from the snow. Their cheerful,
soft, jingling notes have been likened by Mr. Chapman to
“sparkling frost crystals turned to music.”

The White-throated Sparrow

*“What’s in a name?” Our English cousins over the
border are quite sure they hear this Canada sparrow, as
they call it, sing the praises of Swee-ee-et Cdn-a-da,
Cén-a-da, Caén-a-da-a, while the New Englanders think the
bird distinctly says, [-I-Péa-body, Péa-bod-y, Péa-bod-y-I,
extolling the name of one of their first families. You may
amuse yourself by fitting whatever words you like to the
well-marked metre of the clear, high-pitched, plaintive,
sweet song of twelve notes with the accent on the first

112 BIRDS

syllable of thename. Learn to imitate it and you will be
able to whistle up any white-throat within reach of your
voice in the Adirondacks, the White Mountains, or the
deep, cool woods of Maine, throughout the summer, al-
though the majority of these hardy sparrows nest on the
northern side of the Canadian border. Our hot weather
they cannot abide. When there is a keen breath of frost in
the air, and the hedgerows and thickets in the United
States are taking on glorious autumnal tints, listen for the
white-throated migrants conversing with sharp chink call-
notes that sound like the ring of a marble-cutter’s chisel.
During the autumn and spring migrations, when these
birds are likely to give us the semi-annual pleasure of coming
closer about our homes, with other membersof their sociable
tribe, you will see that the white-throat is a slightly larger
and more distinguished bird than the English sparrow, and
that he wears a white patch above his plain, gray breast.

The White-crowned Sparrow

The large size and handsome markings of this aristo-
cratic-looking northern sparrow, who wears a black and
broad white striped cap on his head, would serve to dis-
tinguish him at once, did he not often consort with his
equally fine-looking, white-throated cousins while migrat-
ing, and so too often get overlooked. Sparrows are such
gregarious birds that it is well to scrutinize every flock
with especial care in the spring and autumn, when the
rarer migrants are passing. This bird is more common in
the high altitudes of the Sierra Nevada and Rocky Moun-
tains than elsewhere in the United States. There in the
lonely forest it nests in low bushes or on the ground, and

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 113

sings its full love-song, as it does in the, Northern states
and British provinces, along the Atlantic coast; but during
the migrations it favors us only with selections from its
repertoire. Like the latter half of the white-throat’s
familiar refrain, repeated a number of times with a pe-
culiar, plaintive cadence and in a clear, soft whistle it be-
gins with a fe-u-fe-u-feu,; and, again like the white-throat’s
song, it is frequently heard at night.

The English Sparrow

Is there any one who does not already know this saucy,
keen-witted little gamin who thrives where other birds
would starve; who insists upon thrusting himself where he
is not wanted, not only in other birds’ houses, but about
the cornices, pillars, and shutters of our own, where his
noise and dirt drive good housekeepers frantic; who, with-
out any weapons but his boldness and impudence to fight
with, fears neither man nor beast, and who multiplies as
fast as the rabbit, so that he is rapidly inheriting the earth?
Even children who have never been out of the slums of
great cities know at least this one bird, this ever-present
nuisance, for he chirps and chatters as cheerfully in the
reeking gutters as in the prettiest gardens; he hops with
equal calm about the horse’s feet and trolley cars in
crowded city thoroughfares, as he does about flowery fields
and quiet country lanes; he will pick at the overflow from
garbage pails on the sidewalk in front of teeming tene-
ments, and manure on the city pavements, with quite as
much relish as he will eat the fresh, clean seed spilled by a
canary, or cake-crumbs from my lady’s hand. Intense
cold he endures with cheerful fortitude and as intense mid-

114 BIRDS

summer heat without losing his astonishing vitality. Eggs
have been found in nests in January, for he breeds at all
seasons of the year. Is it any wonder that a bird so
readily adaptable to all sorts of conditions should thrive
like a weed and beat his way around the world?

Now that he has gained such headway in tkis country
his extermination is practically impossible, since a single
pair of sparrows might have 275,716,983,698 descendants
in ten years! It is foolish to talk of ridding the land of
these vermin of birddom. The conditions that kept them
in check in Europe are lacking in this great land of freedom
and so we Americans must pay the penalty for ignorantly
tampering with nature. To trap and poison, snare and
shoot them, as we are constantly advised to do, would be
to brutalize our human nature like the Prussians’. “Ye
are of more value than many sparrows.”

Sparrows were first imported into Brooklyn, in 1851, to
rid the shade trees of inch worms. This feat they accom-
plished there and in New York with neatness and despatch.
Everyone fed, petted, and coddled them then. It was not
until many years later that their true character came to be
thoroughly understood.

But they kill no birds, and drive none from the United
States or Canada, so we may hope that, in the course of
time, our native songsters may pluck up courage to claim
their rights and hold their own, as many indeed already do,
learning from the sparrows the important lesson of adapt-
ability.

The Vesper Sparrow

Toname this dingy sparrow that haunts the open fields and
dusty roadsides, you must notice the white feather on each

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 115

side of his tail as he spreads it and flies before you to alight
upon afence. Like the song sparrow, this cousin has some
fine, dark streaks on his throat and breast but no black
cravat. If you get near enough you will notice that his
wing coverts, which are a bright chestnut-brown, make the
rest of his sparrow plumage look particularly pale and dull.
Some people call him the bay-winged bunting; others, the
grass finch, because he nests, like the meadow-lark and
many other foolish birds, on the ground where mice,
snakes, mowing machines, and cats often make sad havoc
of his young family. ;

This sparrow rarely flies higher than a bush to sing his
serene, pastoral strain, restful as the twilight, of which, in-
deed, it seems to be the vocal expression. How different
from the ecstatic outburst of the song sparrow! Pensive
but not sad, his long-drawn, silvery notes continue in
quavers that float off unended like a trail of mist. It is an
exquisite evensong.

The Goldfinch

Length—65 to 5.2 inches. About an inch smaller than the
English sparrow.

Male—In summer plumage: Bright yellow, except on
crown of head, frontlet, wings, and tail, which are black.
Whitish wing-bands. Tail white on inner webs. In
winter plumage: Head yellow-olive; no frontlet; back,
brownish drab; shoulders and throat yellow; brownish
white underneath.

Female—Brownish olive above, yellowish white beneath.

Range—North America, from the tropics to the Fur’
Countries and westward to the Columbia River and
California. Common throughout its range.

116 BIRDS

Migrations—May. October. Common summer resident,
frequently seen throughout the winter as well.

Have you a garden gay with marigolds, sunflowers,
coreopsis, zinnias, cornflowers, and gaillardias? If so, every
goldfinch in your neighborhood knows it and hastens there
to feed on the seeds of these plants as fast as they form, so
that you need expect to save few for next spring’s planting.
But most of us prefer the birds when flower seeds cost only
five cents a packet; and some of us confess to planting these

very flowers especially to entice goldfinches from the fields.
Clinging to the slender, swaying stems, they themselves
look so like yellow flowers that you do not suspect how
many are feasting in the garden until they are startled into
flight. Then away they go, bounding along through the
air, now rising, now falling, in long aerial waves peculiar
to them alone. You can always tell a goldfinch by its
wavy course through the air. Often it accents the rise of
each wave as it flies by a ripple of sweet, twittering notes.
The yellow warbler is sometimes called a wild canary be-
cause he looks like a canary; the goldfinch has the same
misleading name applied to him because he sings like one.

But goldfinches by no means depend upon our gardens
for their daily fare. An old field overgrown with thistles
and tall, stalky wild flowers, is the paradise of the gold-
finches, summer or winter. Here they congregate in
happy companies while the sunshine and goldenrod are as
bright as their feathers, and cling to the swaying, slender
stems that furnish an abundant harvest, daintily lunching
upon the fluffy seeds of thistle blossoms and wild lettuce,
pecking at the mullein-stalks, and swinging airily among

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 117

the asters and Michaelmas daisies; or, when snow covers
the same field with a glistening crust, above which the
brown stalks offer only a meagre dinner, the same birds,
now sombrely clad in winter feathers, cling to the swaying
stems with cheerful fortitude.

In the spring the plumage of the goldfinch, which has
been drab and brown through the winter months, is
moulted—a change that transforms the bird from a sombre
Puritan into the gayest of cavaliers, and seems to wonder-
fully exalt his spirits. He bursts into a wild, sweet, in-
coherent melody that might be the outpouring from two or
three throats at once instead of one, expressing his rapture
somewhat after the manner of the canary, although his
song lacks the variety and the finish of his caged name-
sake. As love-making is prolonged through the entire
summer, so is the deliciously sweet, tender song. Dear,
dear, dearie, you may hear him sing to his dearest all day
long.

Usually not until July, when the early thistles furnish
plenty of fluff for nest lining, do pairs of goldfinches with-
draw from flocks to begin the serious business of raising a
family. A compact, cozy, cup-like structure of fine grass,
vegetable fibre, and moss, is placed in the crotch of a bush
or tree, or sometimes in a tall, branching thistle plant.
Except the cedar waxwings, the goldfinches are the latest
nesters of all our birds.

The Purple Finch

Length—6 to 6.25 inches. About the size of the English

sparrow.
Male—Unitil two years old: Sparrow-like in appearance like

118 BIRDS

the female, but with olive-yellow on chin and lower back.
Afterward: entire body suffused with a raspberry-red,
deepest on head, lower back, and breast; other parts
only faintly washed with this color. More brown on
back; wings and tail, which are dusky, have some red-
dish-brown feathers. Underneath grayish white. Bill
heavy. Tail forked.

Female—Grayish brown above; whitish below; finely
streaked everywhere with very dark brown, like a spar-
row. Sides of breast have arrow-shaped marks. Wings
and tail darkest.

Range—North America, from Columbia River eastward to
Atlantic, and from Mexico northward to Manitoba.
Most common in Middle states and New England.
Winters south of Pennsylvania.

Migrations—March. November. Common summer resi-
dent. Rarely individuals winter at the North.

In this “much be-sparrowed country”’ of ours, familiarity
is apt to breed contempt for any bird that looks sparrowy,
in which case one of the most delicious songsters we have
might easily be overlooked. It is not until the purple
finch reaches maturity that his plumage takes on the rasp-
berry-red tints that some ornithologists named purple.
It would seem as if the people who named most of our birds
and wild flowers must have been color-blind. Old rose is
more nearly the color of this finch which looks like a brown
sparrow that had been dipped in a bath of raspberry
juice and left out in the sun to fade. But only the mature
males wear this color, which is deepest on their head,
rump, and breast. Their sons are decidedly sparrowy
until the second year and their wives look so much like the

THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 119

song sparrows that one must notice their heavy, rounded
bills and forked tails to make sure they are not their cous-
ins.

Like the goldfinches, these finches, or linnets as they are
sometimes called, wander about in flocks. You see them
in the hemlock and spruce trees feeding on the buds at the
tips of the branches, in the orchard pecking at the blos-
soms on the fruit trees, in the wheat fields with the gold-
finches destroying the larvee of the midge, or by the road-
sides cracking the seeds of weeds that are too hard to open
for birds less stout of bill. When it is time to nest they

prefer evergreen trees to all others, although orchards
sometimes attract them.

A sudden outbreak of spirited, warbled song in March
opens the purple finch’s musical season, which is almost as
long as the song sparrow’s. Subdued nearly to a humming
in October, it is still a delightful reminder of the finest
voice possessed by any bird in the great sparrow tribe. But
it is when the singer is in love that the song reaches its
highest ecstasy. Then he springs into the air just as the
yellow-breasted chat, the oven-bird, and woodcock do
when they go a-wooing, and sings excitedly while mounting
fifteen or twenty feet above his mate until he drops ex-
hausted at her side.

CHAPTER X
THE ILL-ASSORTED BLACKBIRD FAMILY

BrRonzED AND PuRPLE GRACKLES OR Crow BULAcK-
Birps— Rusty BLackBirp — Battimore Or10LE—
OrcnarRD OrioLe — MmapowLarK — RED-WINGED
BLACKBIRD — COWBIRD — BOBOLINK

Was ever a family so ill-assorted as the blackbird and
oriole clan? What traits are common to every member of
it? Not one, apparently. Some of the family are gor-
geously clad, like the Baltimore oriole; some quite plainly,
like the cowbird; and although black seems to be a pre-
valent color in the plumage, the meadowlark, for example,
is a brown bird with only a black crescent on its breast.
Most of the males are dressed quite differently from their
mates, although the female grackles are merely duller.
Some of these birds sing exquisitely; others wheeze or
croak a few unmusical notes. Some live in huge flocks;
some live in couples. Some, like the bobolinks, travel to
the tropics and beyond every winter; others, like the
meadowlark, can endure the intense cold of the North.
Part of the family feed upon the ground, but the oriole
branch lives in the trees. Devotion to mates and children
characterizes most of the family; but we cannot overlook
the cowbird that neither mates nor takes the slightest care
of its offspring. The cowbird builds no nest, while its

120

THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY 121

cousin, the Baltimore oriole, is a famous weaver. The
bobolink is a rollicking, jolly fellow; the grackle is solemn,
even morose. What a queer family!

The Purple Grackle and Bronzed Grackle, or Crow
Blackbirds

Length—12 to 13 inches. About one fourth as large again
as the robin.

Male Purple Grackle—Iridescent black in which metallic
blue, green, violet, and copper tints predominate.
Iridescent bars on plumage. Eye bright yellow and
conspicuous. Tail longer than wings.

Male Bronzed Grackle—Similar, but with brassy upper
parts.

Females—Less brilliant than males.

Range—Purple Grackle: eastern United States from the
Gulf to Massachusetts. Bronzed Grackle: North Amer-
ica east of the Rockies, breeding from the Gulf to Hud-
son Bay and Labrador. Winters in southern parts of
United States.

Probably every American knows either one or other of
our two common crow blackbirds.

When the trees are still leafless in earliest spring and the
ground is brown and cold, flocks of blackbirds dot the bare
trees or take shelter from March winds among their
favorite evergreens, or walk solemnly about on the earth
like small crows, feeding on fat, white grubs and beetles in
a business-like way. They are singularly joyless birds.
A croaking, wheezy whistle, like the sound of a cart wheel
that needs axle-grease, expresses whatever pleasure they

122 BIRDS

may have in life. The grackle’s mate alone appreciates
his efforts as, standing on tip-toe, with half-spread tail, he
pours forth his soul through a rusty-hinged larynx. Whena
number of grackles lift up their voices at once, someone
has aptly likened the result to a “good wheelbarrow
chorus.”

Always sociable, living in flocks the entire year through,
it is in autumn only that they band together in enormous
numbers, and in the West especially, make havoc in
the cornfields. However, they do incalculable good as in-
sect destroyers; grasshoppers are devoured wholesale
when they settle in a field, so the farmers must forgive the
“maize thieves.”

The Rusty Blackbird

Length—9 to 9.55 inches. A trifle smaller than the
robin.

Male—In full plumage, glossy black with metallic reflec-
tions, intermixed with rusty brown that becomes more
pronounced as the season advances. Pale, straw-
colored eyes.

Female—Duller plumage and more rusty, inclining to gray.
Light line over eye. Smaller than male.

Range—North America, from Newfoundland to Gulf of
Mexico and westward to the Plains. ,

Migrations—April. November.

A smaller, more sociable bird than the grackle, though it
travels in smaller flocks, the rusty blackbird condescends to
mingle freely with other feathered friends in marshes and
by brooksides. You can identify it by its rusty feathers
and pale yellow eye, and easily distinguish the rusty-gray

THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY 123

female from the female redwing that is conspicuously
streaked, but about the same size.

In April, flocks of these birds may frequently be seen
along sluggish, secluded streams in the woods, feeding upon
the seeds of various water or brookside plants, and prob-
ably upon insects also. At such times they often indulge
in a curious spluttering, squeaking, musical concert that
one listens to with pleasure. The breeding range is mostly
north of the United States.

The Baltimore Oriole

Length—7 to 8 inches. About one fifth smaller than the
robin.

Male—Head throat, upper part of back glossy black.
W ngs black, with white spots and edgings. Tail-
quills black, with yellow markings on the tips. Every-
where else orange, shading into flame.

Female—Yellowish olive. Wings dark brown, and quills
margined with white. Tail yellowish brown, with ob-
scure, dusky bars.

Range—The whole United States. Most numerous in
Eastern states below 55° north latitude.

Migrations—Early May. Middle of September. Common
summer resident.

A flash of fire through the air—a rich, high, whistled song
floating in the wake of the feathered meteor—the Baltimore
oriole cannot be mistaken. When the orchards are in
blossom he arrives in full plumage and song, and awaits the
coming of the female birds, that travel northward more
leisurely in flocks. He is decidedly in evidence. No foli-
age is dense enough to hide his brilliancy; and his insistent

124 BIRDS

song with its martial, interrogative notes, becomes almost
tiresome until he is happily mated and family cares check
his enthusiasm. One can easily imitate his whistle and, on
calling him, find a quick response from the mystified oriole
who is always disposed to live within hailing distance of
human homes. The music from a piano excites him as,
joyously singing, he flies nearer and nearer to the house.

Among the best architects in the world is his plain but
energetic mate. Gracefully swung from the end of a high
branch of some tall tree, preferably an elm or a willow, the
nest is woven with exquisite skill into a long, flexible pouch
that rain cannot penetrate nor wind shake from its horse-
hair moorings. Bits of string, threads of silk, and some-
times yarn of the gayest colors, if laid about the shrubbery
in the garden, will be quickly interwoven with shreds of
bark and milk-weed stalks that the bird has found afield.
The shape of the nest often differs, because in unsettled
regions, where hawks abound, it is necessary to make it
deeper than seven inches (the customary depth when it is
built near the homes of men), and to partly close it at the
top to conceal the sitting bird.

The Orchard Oriole

Length—7 to 7.3 inches. About one fourth smaller than
the robin.

Male—Head, throat, upper back, tail, and part of wings
black. Breast, rump, shoulders, under wing and tail
coverts, and under parts bright reddish brown after
second year. Whitish-yellow markings on a few tail and
wing feathers.

Female—Head and upper parts olive, shading into brown;

THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY 125

. brighter on head and near tail. Back and wings dusky
brown, with pale buff shoulder-bars and edges of coverts.
Throat black. Under parts olive, shading into yellow.

Range—Canada to Central America. Common in tem-
perate latitudes of the United States, east of the Plains.

Migrations—Early May. Middle of September. Com-
mon summer resident.

With a more southerly range than the Baltimore oriole
and less conspicuous coloring, the orchard oriole is not so
familiar a bird in many Northern states, where, neverthe-
less, it is quite common enough to be classed among our
would-be intimates. The orchard is not always so close to
the house as this bird cares to venture; he will pursue an in-
sect even to the piazza vines. One which used to come close
to the house to feed on basket worms dangling from a
tamarisk bush, returned long after the last worm was eaten
whenever someone touched the piano keys. Orioles have
a quick ear for music.

This oriole’s song, says John Burroughs, is like scarlet,
“strong, intense, emphatic,” but it is sweet and is more
rapidly uttered than that of others of the family. It ends
for the season early in July.

A beautiful nest—not often pendent like the Baltimore’s,
but securely placed in the fork of a sturdy fruit tree, at a
moderate height, and woven with skill and precision, like a
basket—is built by the orchard oriole. When the dried
grasses from one of these nests were stretched and mea
ured, all were found to be very nearly the same length,
showing to what pains the little weaver had gone to make
the nest neat and pliable, yet strong. Four cloudy, white

126 BIRDS

eggs with dark-brown spots are usually found in the nest in
June.

The Meadowlark

Length—10 to 11 inches. A trifle larger than the robin.

Male—Upper parts brown, varied with chestnut, deep
brown, and black. Crown streaked with brown and black,
and with a cream-colored streak through the centre.
Dark brown line apparently running through the eye;
another line over the eye, yellow. Throat and chin
yellow; a large, conspicuous, black crescent on breast.
Underneath yellow, shading into buffy brown, spotted or
streaked with very dark brown. Outer tail feathers
chiefly white, conspicuous in flight. Long, strong legs
and claws, adapted for walking. Less black in winter
plumage, which is more grayish brown.

Female—Paler than male.

Range—North America, from Newfoundland to the Gulf of
Mexico, and westward to the Plains, where the Western
meadowlark takes its place. Winters from Massachu-
setts and Dlinois southward.

Migrations—April. Late October. Usually a resident, a
few remaining throughout the winter.

Every farmer’s boy knows his father’s friend, the mea-
dowlark, which keeps well hidden in the grass and stubble of
dry fields of grass or grain where the protective mimicry
of its plumage effectually conceals it. When the shy bird
takes wing, note the white feathers on the sides of its tail
to be sure it is not the big, brownish flicker, which wears a
patch of white feathers on its lower back, conspicuous as it

THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY 127

flies. ‘The meadowlark has the impolite habit of turning
its back upon one to conceal its conspicuous yellow breast
from human eyes. It flaps and sails through the air much
like a bob-white. But flying is not its specialty. It is a
strong-legged, active walker, and rarely rises from the
ground unless an intruder gets very near, when away it
flies, with a nasal, sputtered alarm note, to alight upon a
fence rail or other low perch.

The tender, sweet, plaintive, flute-like whistle, Spring-
o’-the-year, is a deliberate song usually given from some
favorite platform—a stump, a rock, a fence or a mound—to
which the bird goes for his musical performance only. He
sings on and on delightfully, not always the same song, for
he has several in his repertoire, and charms all listeners,

The one most interested keeps well concealed among the
grasses where her grassy nest is almost impossible to find,
especially if it be partly arched over at the top. No farmer
who realizes what an enormous number of grasshoppers,
not to mention other destructive insects, meadowlarks
destroy, is foolish enough to let his mowing-machine pass
over their nests if he can but locate them. By the time
hay is ready for cutting in June, little meadowlarks are
usually running about through grassy run-ways, but eggs
of the second brood too frequently, alas! meet a tragic end,
and eggs of either brood may have had large toll taken by
meadow-mice and snakes—the greatest foes of all birds
that nest on the ground.

The Red-winged Blackbird

Length—Usually about an inch smaller than the robin.
Male—Coal-black. Shoulders scarlet, edged with yellow.

128; BIRDS

Female—Feathers finely and inconspicuously speckled
with brown, rusty black, and yellowish white.

Range—North America. Throughout the United States
to Columbia River.

Migrations—March. October. Common summer resi-
dent.

When looking for the first pussy willows in the frozen
marshes, or listening to the peeping of young frogs some
day in early spring, you will, no doubt, become acquainted
with this handsome blackbird, with red and orange epau-
lettes on his shoulders, who has just returned from the
South. Ke, kong-ker-ee, he flutes from the willows and
alders about the reedy meadows where he and his bachelor
friends flock together and make them ring “with social
cheer and jubilee.”’ A little later, flocks of dingy, brown,
streaked birds, traveling northward, pause to rest in the
marshes. Wholesale courting takes place shortly after
and every red-wing in a black uniform chooses one of the
plain, streaked, matter-of-fact birds for his mate just as if
they were the chorus in one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s
operas. The remainder continue their unmaidenly journey
in search of husbands, whom they find waiting in cheerful
readiness in almost any marsh. By the first of May all
have settled down to home life.

Then how constant are the rich, liquid, sweet o-ka-lee
notes of the red-wing! Ever in foolish fear for the safety
of his nest, he advertises its whereabouts in musical head-
lines from the top of the nearest tree, or circles around it on
fluttering wings above the sedges, or chucks at any tres-
passer near it until one might easily torture him by going
straight to its site.

THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY 129

These tuneful blackbirds congregate in large numbers
where the wild rice is ripening and make short excursions to
the farmers’ fields, where they destroy some grain, it is
true, but so little as compared with the quantity of in-
jurious insects and weed seed, that the debt is largely in
the red-wings’ favor.

The Cowbird

Lengith—7 to 8 inches. About one fifth smaller than the
robin.

Male—Iridescent black, with head, neck, and breast
glistening, coffee-brown.

Female—Dull, grayish brown above, a shade lighter below,
and streaked with paler shades of brown.

Range—United States, from coast to coast. North into
British America, south into Mexico.

Migrations—March. November. Common summer resi-
dent.

This contemptible bird everyone should know if for no
better reason than to despise it. You will see it alone, or
in small flocks, walking about the pastures behind cattle;
or, in the western cattle country, boldly perching upon
their backs to feed upon the insect parasites—a pleasant
visitor for the cows. So far, so good.

But the male cowbird’s morals are awful, for he makes
violent love to any brownish-gray cowbird he fancies, but
mates with none. What should be his song is a squeaking
kluck tse-e-e, squeezed out with difficulty, or a gurgle, like
water being poured from a bottle. When he goes a-woo-
ing, he behaves ridiculously, parading with spread wings
and tail and acting as if he were violently nauseated in the

130 BIRDS

presence of the lady. Fancy a cousin of the musical bob-
olink behaving so!

And nothing good can be said for the female cowbird.
Shirking as she does every motherly duty, she sneaks about
the woods and thickets, slyly watching her chance to lay an
egg in the cradle of some other bird, since she never makes
a nest of her own. Thus she scatters her prospective
family throughout the neighborhood. The yellow warbler,
which is a famous sufferer from her visits, sometimes out-
wits her, as we have seen; but other warblers, less clever,
the vireos, some sparrows, and, more rarely, woodpeckers,
flycatchers, orioles, thrushes and wrens, seem to accept the
unwelcome gift without a protest. At least they might
peck holes in it if unable to roll it out of the nest. Prob-
ably every cowbird you see has sacrificed the lives of at
least part of a brood of valuable, insectivorous songsters.
Without the least spark of gratitude in its cold heart, a
young cowbird grafter forsakes its over-kind foster parents
as soon asit can pick up its living and remains thenceforth
among its own kin—of whom only cows could think well.

The Bobolink

Length—7 inches. A trifle larger than the English sparrow.

Male—In spring plumage: Black, with light yellow patch
on upper neck, also on edges of wings and tail feathers.
Rump and upper wings splashed with white. Middle of
back streaked with pale buff. Tail feathers have
pointed tips. In autumn plumage: resembles female.

Female—Dull yellow-brown, with light and dark dashes on
back, wings, and tail. Two decided dark stripes on top
of head.

National Association of Audubon Societies See page 130

BOBOLINK
(Upper figure, male; lower figure, female)

‘THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY 131

Range—North America, from Eastern coast to Western
prairies. Migrates in early autumn to Southern states,
and in winter to South America and West Indies.

Migrations—Early May. From July to October. Com-
mon summer resident.

(See plate, page 130.)

On a May morning, when buttercups spangle the fresh
grasses in the meadows, this rollicking jolly fellow rises
from their midst into the air with the merriest frolic of a
song you ever head. Loud, clear, strong, full of queer
kinks and twists that could not possibly be written down in
our musical scale, the rippling, reckless music seems to keep
his wings in motion as well as his throat; for when it sud-
denly bursts forth, up he shoots into the air like a skylark,
and paddles himself along with just the tips of his wings
while it is the “‘mad music”’ that seemingly propels him—
then he drops with his song into the grass again. Fre-
quently he pours out his hilarious melody while swaying on
the slender stems of the grasses, propped by the stiff,
pointed feathers of his tail. A score or more of bobolinks
rising in some open meadow all day long, are worth travel-
ing miles to hear.

If you were to see the mate of one of these merry min-
strels apart from him, she might be easily mistaken for an-
other of those tiresome sparrows. A brown, streaked bird, |
with some buff and a few white feathers, she shades into
the colors of the ground as well as they and covers her loose
heap of twigs, leaves and grasses in the hayfield so har-
moniously that few people ever find it or the clever sitter.

As early as the Fourth of July, bobolinks begin to desert
the choir, being the first birds to leave us. Traveling

132 BIRDS

southward by easy stages, they feed on the wild rice in the
marshes until, late in August, enormous flocks reach the
cultivated rice fields of South Carolina and Georgia.

On the way, a great transformation has gradually taken
place in the male bobolink’s dress. At the North he wore
a black, buff, and white wedding garment, with the unique
distinction of being lighter above than below; but this he
has exchanged for a sparrowy winter suit like his mate’s
and children’s, only with a little more buff about it.

In this inconspicuous dress the reedbirds—or ricebirds, as
bobolinks are usually called south of Mason and Dixon’s
line—descend in hordes upon the rice plantations when the
grain is in the milk, and do several millions of dollars’ worth
of damage to the crop every year, sad, sad to tell. Of
course, the birds are snared, shot, poisoned. In Southern
markets a dozen of them on a skewer may be bought,
plucked and ready for the oven, for half a dollar. What a
tragic fate to overtake our joyous songsters! Birds that
have the misfortune to like anything planted by man, pay
a terribly heavy penalty.

Such bobolinks as escape death, leave this country by
way of Florida and continue their four-thousand-mile
journey to southern Brazil, where they spend the winter;
yet, nothing daunted by the tragedies in the rice fields,
they dare return to us by the same route in May. By this
time the males have made another complete change of
feather to go a-courting. Most birds are content to
moult once a year, just after nursery duties have ended;
some, it is true, put on a partially new suit in the following
spring, retaining only their old wing and tail feathers; but
a very few, the bobolink, goldfinch, and scarlet tanager
among them, undergo as complete a change as Harlequin.

CHAPTER XI
TWO RASCALLY RELATIVES

Crow—B.vusE Jay

The Crow

Length—16 to 17.5 inches.

Male—Glossy black with violet reflections. Wings appear
saw-toothed when spread, and almost equal the tail in
length.

Female—Like male, except that the black is less brilliant.

Range—Throughout North America, from Hudson Bay to
the Gulf of Mexico.

Migrations—Permanent resident.

(See plate, page 181.)

If we have an eye for the picturesque, we place a certain
value upon the broad, strong dash of color in the landscape,
given by a flock of crows flapping their course above a corn-
field, against an October sky; but the practical eye of the
farmer looks only for his gun in such a case. To him the
crow is an unmitigated nuisance, all the more maddening
because it is clever enough to circumvent every means
devised for its ruin. Nothing escapes its rapacity; fear is
unknown to it. It commits petty larceny and even mur-
der in broad daylight, chooses the most conspicuous

133

134 BIRDS

perches, and yet its assurance is amply justified in its
steadily increasing numbers. With a caw, caw, caw, for,
friend and foe alike, perhaps it knows its own true worth
better than the average farmer, who has persecuted it
with bounty laws, shot-gun, and poison for generations,
keeping no account of the immense numbers of cutworms,
grubs and larve of many pests it picks up as it walks after
the plough every spring. The farmer counts the corn
stolen, however, and puts a price on the robber’s head. Yet
he knows that corn, dipped in tar before it is put in the
ground, will be left alone to sprout. But who is clever
enough to keep the crows out of the field in autumn? If
the ox that treadeth out the corn is entitled to his share
of it, ought not.the crows who saved it from grasshoppers,
cutworms, May beetles and other pests, be sharers in the
profits? Granted (very reluctantly by some); but what
about eating the farmer’s young chickens and turkeys as
well as the eggs and young of littlesong birds? At times, it
must be admitted, the crow’s heart is certainly as black as
his feathers; he is as black as he is painted, but happily
such cannibalism is apt to be rare. Strange that a bird so
tenderly devoted to his own fledglings, should be so heart-
less to others’!

Toward the end of winter, you may see a pair of crows
carrying sticks and trash to the top of some tall tree in the
leafless woods, and there, in this bulky cradle, resembling
a squirrel’s nest, they raise their family. Young crows
may be easily tamed and they make interesting, but very
mischievous pets. It is only when crows are nesting that
they give up their social, flocking habit and the settling of
their affairs in noisy public debates.

" In winter, if the fields be lean, large picturesque flocks

TWO RASCALLY RELATIVES 135

may be seen at dawn streaking across the sky to distant
beaches where they feed on worms, refuse, and small shell-
fish. More than one crow has been watched, rising in the
air with a clam or a mussel in his claws, dropping it on a
rock, then falling after it, as soon as the shell is smashed, to
feast upon its contents.

With punctual regularity at sundown, the flocks straggle
back inland to go to sleep, sometimes thousands of crows
together in a single roost. Many birds have more regular
meal hours and bed-time than some children seem to care
for. Because crows eat almost anything they can find, and
pick up a good living where other birds, more finical or less
clever, would starve, they rarely need to migrate; but they
are great rovers.

The Blue Jay

Length—11 to 12 inches. Larger than the robin.

Male and Female—Blue above. Black band around the
neck, joining some black feathers on the back. Under
parts dusky white. Wing coverts and tail bright blue,
barred with black. Tail much rounded. Many feath-
ers edged and tipped with white. Head finely crested.

Range—Eastern coast of North America to the Plains, and
from northern Canada to Florida and eastern Texas.

Migrations—Permanent resident. Although seen in flocks
moving southward or northward, they are merely seek-
ing happier hunting grounds, not migrating.

This vivacious, dashing fellow, harsh-voiced and noisy,
cannot be overlooked; for whena bright, grayish-blue bird,
about a foot long, roves about the neighborhood with a
troop of screaming relatives, everybody knows it. In

136 BIRDS

summer he may keep quiet, but he throws off all restraint
in autumn. Hear him hammering at an acorn some
frosty morning! How vigorous his motions, how alert and
independent! His beautiful military blue, black, and
white feathers, and crested head, give him distinction.

He is certainly handsome. But is his beauty only skin
deep? Does it cover, in reality, a multitude of sins?
Shocking stories of murder in the song bird’s nest have
branded the blue jay with quite as bad a name as the
crow’s. The brains of fledglings, it has been said, are his
favorite tid-bits. But, happily, scientists who have
turned the searchlight on his deeds find that his sins have
been greatly exaggerated. Remains of young birds were
found in only two out of nearly three hundred blue jays’
stomachs analyzed. Birds’ eggs are more apt to be sucked
by both jays and squirrels than are the nestlings to be
eaten. Let him who has never enjoyed an egg for break-
fast throw the first stone at this sinner. Fruit, grain, thin-
shelled nuts, and the larger seeds of trees and shrubs—
gathered for the most part in Nature’s open store-room,
not in man’s—are what the jay chiefly delights in; and these
he hides away, squirrel-fashion, to provide for the rainy
day. By burying acorns and the small nuts, he plants in-
numerable trees. More than half of all his food in sum-
mer consists of insects; then he is quite as useful as his
cousin, the crow.

Jays are fearful teasers. How they love to chase about
some poor, blinking, bewildered owl, in the daylight!
Jay-jay-jay, you may hear them scream through the
woods. They mimic the hawk’s cry for no better reason,
perhaps, than that they may laugh at the panic into which
timid little birds are thrown at the terrifying sound.’ i

TWO RASCALLY RELATIVES 137

Mischievous as a monkey, deft at hiding as a squirrel, a pet
jay will carry all its beech nuts to a piazza roof, wedge them
between the shingles, and open them there with ease. An
interesting array of hair pins, matches, buttons, a thimble,
and a silver spoon were raked out of one such favorite
vache under the eaves.

CHAPTER XII
THE FLYCATCHERS

Kinepirp—Crestep FiycatcHER—PHOEBE— Woop PE-
WEE—LEAST FLYCATCHER

A dusky bird, smaller than the robin, lighter gray under-
neath than on its sooty-brown back, with a well-rounded,
erect head, set on a short, thick neck, one may safely guess
is one of the flycatchers—another strictly American family.
If the bird has a white band across the end of its tail it is
probably the fearless kingbird. If the feathers on top of its
head look as if they had been brushed the wrong way into a
pointed crest; moreover, if some chestnut color shows in its
tail when spread, and its pearly gray breast shades into
yellow underneath, you are looking at the noisy “wild
Irishman” of birddom, the crested flycatcher. Confiding
Phoebe wears the plainest of dull clothes with a still darker,
dusky crown cap, and a line of white on her outer tail
feathers. She and the plaintive wood pewee, who has two
indistinct whitish bars across her extra-long wings, are
scarcely larger than an English sparrow; while the least
flycatcher, who calls himself Chebec, is, as you may sup-
pose, the smallest member of the tribe to leave the tropics
and spend the summer with us. Male and female mem-
bers of this family wear similar clothes, fortunately for the
novice who tries to name them.

188

THE FLYCATCHERS 139

A flycatcher may be known at sight by the way he
collects his dinner. Perhaps he will be sitting quietly on
the limb of a tree or on a fence as if dreaming, when sud-
denly off he dashes into the air, clicks his broad bill
sharply over a winged insect, flutters an instant, then
wheels about and returns to his favorite perch to wait for
the next course to fly by. He may describe fifty such
loops in mid-air and make as many fatal snap-shots before
his hunger is satisfied. A swallow or a swift would keep
constantly on the wing; a vireo would hunt leisurely among
the foliage; a warbler would restlessly flit about the tree
hunting for its dinner among the leaves; but the dignified,
dexterous flycatcher, like a hawk, waits patiently on his
lookout for a dinner to fly toward him. “All things come
to him who waits,” he firmly believes.

None of the family is musically gifted, but all make a
more or less pleasing noise. Flycatchers are solitary,
sedentary birds, never being found in flocks; but when
mated, they are devoted home lovers.

We are apt to think of tropical birds as very gaily
feathered, but certainly many that come from warmer
climes to spend the summer are less conspicuous than

Quakers.
The Kingbird

Length—8 inches. About two inches shorter than the
robin.

Male and Female—Ashy black above; white, shaded with
ash-color, beneath. A concealed crest of orange-red on
crown lacking in female. Tail black, terminating with
a white band conspicuous in flight. Wing feathers
edged with white.

140 BIRDS

Range—United States to the Rocky Mountains. British
provinces to Central and South America.

Migrations—May. September. Common summer resi-
dent.

In spite of his scientific name, which has branded him
the tyrant of tyrants, the kingbird is by no means a bully.
See him high in air in hot pursuit of that big, black villain-
ous crow, who dared try to rob his nest, darting about the
rascal’s head and pecking at his eyes until he is glad to
leave the neighborhood! There seems to be an eternal
feud between them. Even the marauding hawk, that
strikes terror to every other feathered breast, will be
driven off by the plucky little kingbird. But surely a
courageous home defender is no tyrant. A kingbird doesn’t
like the scolding catbird for a neighbor, or the teasing
blue jay, or the meddlesome English sparrow, but he
simply gives them a wide berth. He is no Don Quixote
ready to fight from mere bravado. Tyrannus tyrannus is
a libel.

For years he has been called the bee martin and some
scientific men in Washington determined to learn if that
name, also, is deserved. So they collected more than two
hundred kingbirds from different parts of the country,
examined their stomachs and found bees—mostly drones—
in only fourteen. The bird is too keen sighted and
clever to snap up knowingly a bee with a sting attached
when, probably, he is more sorry for it than the bee-
keeper.

He destroys so many robber flies—a pest of the hives—
that the intelligent apiarist, who keeps bees in his orchard
to fertilize the blossoms, always likes to ee a pair of king-

THE FLYCATCHERS 141

birds nesting in one of his fruit trees. The gardener wel-
comes the bird that eats rose chafers; the farmer approves
of him because he catches the gadfly that torments his
horses and cattle, as well as the grasshoppers, katydids, and
crickets that would destroy his field crops if left unchecked.
The kingbird is readily identified by the white band across
the end of his tail.

From a favorite lookout on a fence-rail he will detect an
insect more than one hundred and seventy feet away, where
no human eye could see it, dash off, snap it safely within
his bill, flutter uncertainly an instant, then return to his
perch ready to “loop the loop” again any moment. The
curved clasp at the tip of his bill and the stiff hairs at the
base help hold every insect prisoner. While waiting for
food to fly into sight the watcher does a good deal of noisy
calling. His harsh, clattering note, ching, ching, which
penetrates to a surprising distance, does not express alarm,
but rather the exultant joy of victory. Before and during
the nesting season the rasping clatter is kept up all day
long.

The Crested Flycatcher

Length—8.5 to 9 inches. A little smaller than the robin.

Male and Female—Feathers of the head pointed and erect.
Upper parts dark grayish olive, inclining to brown on
wings and tail. Wing coverts crossed with two irregular
bars of yellowish white. Throat gray, shading into
pale sulphur-yellow underneath, that also extends under
the wings. Inner vane of several tail quills rusty red.
Bristles at base of bill.

Range—From Mexico, Central America, and West Indies
northward to southern Canada and westward to the

142 BIRDS

Plains. Most common in Mississippi basin; common
also in eastern United States, south of New England.

Migrations—May. September. Common summer resi-
dent.

Far more tyrannical than the kingbird is this “wild
Trishman,” as John Burroughs calls the flycatcher with the
tousled head and harsh, rasping voice, who prowls around
the woods and orchards startling most feathered friends
and foes with a loud, piercing exclamation that sounds
like What! Unlike good children, he is more often heard
than seen.

That the unpopular bird takes a mischievous delight in
scaring its enemies may be known fromitsliking betterthan
any other lining for its nest, a cast snake skin. Is it any
wonder that the baby flycatchers’ hair stands on end? If
the great-crest cannot find the skin of a snake to coil
around her nest, or to hang outside of it, she may use
onion skins, or oiled paper, or even fish scales; for what was
once a protective custom sometimes becomes degraded
into a cheap imitation of the imitation in the furnishing of
her house. Into an abandoned woodpeckers’ hole or a
bluebirds’ cavity after the young of these early nesters
have flown, or into some unappropriated hollow in a tree,
this flycatcher carries enough grasses, weeds, and feathers
to keep her nestlings cozy during those rare days of June
beloved by Lowell, but which Dr. Holmes observed are
often so rare they are raw.

The Phoebe

Length—7 inches. About an inch longer than the English
"sparrow.

THE FLYCATCHERS 143

Male and Female—Dusky olive-brown above; darkest on
head. Wings and tail dusky, the outer edges of some
tail feathers whitish. Dingy yellowish white under-
neath.

Range—North America, from Newfoundland to the South
Atlantic states and westward to the Rockies. Winters
south of the Carolinas, and into Mexico, Central Amer-
ica, and the West Indies.

Migrations—March. October. Common summer resi-
dent.

The first of its family to come north, as well as the last
to go, the phoebe appears toward the end of March to snap
up the first insects warmed into life by the spring sunshine.
Grackles in the evergreens, red-wings in the swampy
meadows, bluebirds in the orchard may assure us that sum-
mer is on the way; but the homely, confiding phoebe, who
comes close about our houses and barns, brings the good
news home to us every hour.

This is still another bird to introduce himself by name.

Pewit—phoebe, pewit—phoebe, he calls continually. As
he perches on the peak of a building or other point of
vantage, notice how vigorously he wags his tail when
he calls, and turns his head this way and that, to keep
an eye in all directions lest a bite should fly by him
unawares.

Presently a mate comes from somewhere south of the
Carolinas where she has passed the winter; for phoebes are
more hardy than the rest of the family and all do not
travel so far as the tropics. With unfailing accuracy she
finds the region where she built her nest the previous season
or where she herself was hatched. This instinct of re-

144 BIRDS

turned direction is marvellous, is it not? Birds almost
never get lost.

Phoebes like a covering over their heads to protect their
nests from spring rains, so you will see a domesticated
couple going about the place investigating niches under the
piazza roof, beams in an empty barn or shed, and projec-
tions under bridges and trestles—express trains may
thunder overhead so that the site be covered. By the
middle of April a neat nest of moss and lichen, plastered to-
gether with mud and lined with long hair or wool, if sheep
are near, is made in the vicinity of their home of the year
before. The nursery is exquisitely fashioned.

From purely selfish motives it pays to cultivate neigh-
bors ever on the lookout for flies, wasps, May-beetles, click
beetles, elm destroyers, the moth of the cutworm, and
countless other winged pests. The first nest is usually so
infested by lice that the phoebes either tear it down in July,
and build a new one on its site, or else make the second
nest at a little distance from the first. The parents of two
broods of from four to six ravenously hungry, insectivorous
young, with an instinctive desire to return to their old
home year after year, should surely meet no discourage-
ment.

The Wood Pewee

Length—6.5 inches. A trifle larger than the English
sparrow.

Male and Female—Dusky brownish olive above, darkest on
head; lighter underneath, and with a yellowish tinge on
the gray under parts. Dusky wings and tail, the wing
coverts tipped with soiled white, forming two indistinct
bars. Wings longer than tail.

THE FLYCATCHERS 145

Doubtless this demure, gentle little cousin of the noisy,
aggressive, crested flycatcher has no secret sorrow preying
at its heart, but the tender pathos of the long-drawn notes
Pee-e-wee, Pee-e-wee would seem to indicate that it is
rather melancholy. And it sings out its name (in spite of
the books which teach us that the flycatchers are “song-
less, perching birds’’) from the time of its arrival from Cen-
tral America in May until only the tireless indigo bunting
and the red-eyed vireo are left in the choir in August.

But how suddenly its melancholy langour departs the in-
stant an insect flies within sight! With a cheerful, sudden
sally in mid-air, it snaps up the luscious bite, for it can be
quite as active as any of the family. While not so ready
to be neighborly as the phoebe, the wood pewee condescends
to visit our orchards and shade trees.

When nesting time comes, it looks for a partly decayed,
lichen-covered branch, and onto this saddles a compact,
exquisite cradle of fine grass, moss, and shreds of bark,
binding bits of lichen with spiders’ web to the outside until
the sharpest of eyes are needed to tell the stuccoed nest
from the limb it rests on. Only the tiny humming-bird,
who also uses lichen as a protective and decorative device,
conceals her nest so successfully.

The Least Flycatcher

It is not until he calls out his name, Chebect Chebec! in
clear and business-like tones from some tree-top that you
could identify this fluffy flycatcher, scarcely more than
five inches long, whose dusky coat and light vest offer no
helpful markings. Not a single gay feather relieves his
sombre suit—a queer, Quakerly taste for a bird that spends

146 _ BIRDS

half his life in the tropics among gorgeously feathered
friends. Even the plain vireos wear finer clothes than the
dusky flyeatchers. You may know that the chebec is not
one of those deliberate searchers of foliage by his sudden,
murderous sallies in mid-air.

Abundant from Pennsylvania to Quebec, the least fly-
catchers are too inconspicuous to be much noticed. They
haunt apple orchards chiefly at nesting time, fortunately
for the crop.

National Association of Audubon Societies

See page 153

RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD

TTIMWUOOddIHM
A4T abvd aag

sayawooy uognpny fo ucwHDIwoss py jDUCYD AT

CHAPTER XIII
SOME QUEER RELATIONS

WauiproorwiILL—NIGHT-HAWK—CHIMNEY SwIFT—RUBY-
THROATED HUMMING-BIRD

The Whippoorwill

Length—9 to 10 inches. About the size of the robin.
Apparently much larger, because of its wide wing-
spread.

Male—A long-winged bird, motiled all over with reddish
brown, grayish black, and dusky white; numerous
bristles fringing the large mouth. A narrow white
band across the upper breast. Ends of outer tail-quills
white.

Female—Similar to male, except that the tail is dusky in
color where that of the male is white. Band on breast
buff instead of white.

Range—United States to the Plains. Not common near
the sea.

Migrations—Late April to middle of September. Summer
resident.

(See plate, on opposite page.)

A queer, shadowy bird, that sleeps all day in the woods
and flies about through open country after dark with un-
147

(

148 BIRDS

canny softness like an owl, would be difficult for one to
know were it not for the weird, snappy triplets of notes that
tell his name. Every one knows him far better by sound,
than by sight. Whip-poor-will (chuck) whip-poor-will
(chuck) whip-poor-will (chuck) he calls rapidly for about
two hours, just after sunset or before sunrise from some low
place, fluttering his wings at each announcement. But
you must be near him to hear the chuck at the end of each
vigorous triplet; most listeners don’t. In the Southern
states a similar whippoorwill is known as Chuck Will’s
Widow, the name it calls itself at nightfall.

You might be very close indeed without seeing the ©
plump bird, who has flattened himself lengthwise against
a lichen-covered branch until you cannot tell bird from
bark. Or he may be on a rock or an old, mossy log, where
he rests serene in the knowledge that his mottled, dull,
dark brown, gray, buff, black and white feathers blend
perfectly with his resting place. He must choose a spot
broad enough to support his whole body, for, like his
cousin, the nighthawk, and his more distant relatives, the
humming-bird and the swift, the whippoorwill’s feet are
too small and weak for much perching. You never see him
standing erect on a twig with his toes clasped around it, but
always squatting when at rest.

A narrow white band across his throat makes his de-
pressed head look as if it had been separated from his
body—a queer effect like that of the Cheshire Cat in
“Alice in Wonderland.” The whippoorwill’s three outer
tail feathers have white ends which help to distinguish him
from the night-hawk. He has a little short beak, but his
large mouth stretches from ear to ear, and when he flies low
above the fields after sunset, this trap is kept open, like the

SOME QUEER RELATIONS 149

swift’s and the swallow’s, to catch any night-flying insects
—mosquitoes, June bugs, gnats, and little moths—that
cross his path. Long, stiffened bristles at the ends of his
mouth prevent the escape of a victim past the gaping trap.
On the wing the bird is exceedingly swift and graceful. He
is often mistaken for a night-hawk, or even a bat.

Relying upon the protective covering of her soft plum-
age, the mother whippoorwill builds no nest, but lays a
pair of mottled eggs in an old stump or directly on the
ground in the dark woods where a carpet of dead leaves and
decayed wood makes concealment perfect. Not even the
oven-bird contrives that a peep at her eggs shall be so diffi-
cult. It is next to impossible to find them. Unlike the
wicked cowbird, who builds no nest because she has no
maternal instinct, the whippoorwill, who is a devoted
mother, makes none because none is needed.

The Night-hawk

When the night-jar, bull-bat, night-hawk or mosquito-
hawk is coursing low above the fields, with quick, erratic,
bat-like turns, notice the white spots, almost forming a bar
across his wings, for they, together with the white band
near the end of his slightly forked tail, will help to dis-
tinguish him from the whippoorwill, who carries his
white signals on the outer feathers of his tail. Both of
these cousins wear the same colors, only they put them on
differently, the whippoorwill having his chiefly mottled,
the night-hawk his chiefly barred. The latter wears a
broader white band across his throat. His mate sub-
stitutes buff for his white decorations.

It is the night-hawk who makes the weird, rushing, whir-

150 BIRDS

ring, booming sound that one hears on still summer
evenings, as though wind were blowing across the bung-
hole of an empty barrel. The bird is such a high flyer,
that in the dusk of the late afternoon, when he delights to
sail abroad to get his dinner, one cannot always see him;
but as he coasts down from the sky on his half-closed wings
with tremendous speed, the rush of air through his stiff,
long wing feathers makes an uncanny, aeolian music that
superstitious people have declared is a bad omen. One
might think he would dash out his brains in such a head-
long dive through the air, but before he hits the earth, a
sudden turn saves him and off he goes unharmed, skim-
ming above the ground and catching insects after the
whippoorwill’s manner. He lacks the helpful bristles at
the ends of his fly-trap. He is not so nocturnal in his
habits as the whippoorwill. Toward the end of sum-
mer, especially, he may be seen coursing over the open
country at almost any hour of the day. Once in a while,
as he hunts, he calls peent—a sharp cry that reminds one
of the meadow-lark’s nasal call-note. Presently, mounting
upward higher and higher, he seems to reach the very
clouds, when down he coasts again, booming as he de-
scends. Evidently he enjoys the sport as much as any
schoolboy might for he repeats his sky-coasting very often
without having to wait for a snow-storm. Indeed, when
winter comes, he is enjoying another summer in South
America. Life without insects would be impossible for
him.

Like the mother whippoorwill the night-hawk makes
no nest but places her two speckled treasures in some
sunny spot, either on the bare ground, on a rock, or
even on the flat roof of a house. Since electric lights at-

SOME QUEER RELATIONS 151

tract so many insects to the streets of towns and villages,
the enterprising night-hawk often forsakes the country to
rear her children where they may enjoy the benefits of
modern improvements.

The Chimney Swift

Length—5 to 5.45 inches. About an inch shorter than the
English sparrow. Long wings make its length appear
greater.

Male and Female—Deep sooty gray; throat a trifle lighter.
Wings extend an inch and a half beyond the even tail,
which has sharply pointed and very elastic quills, that
serve as props. Feet are muscular, and have exceed-
ingly sharp claws.

Range—Peculiar to North America east of the Rockies,
and from Labrador to Panama.

Migrations—April. September or October. Common
summer resident.

Many people persist in calling this bird the chimney
swallow, although it is not even remotely related to the
swallows, and.its life history, as well as its anatomy, is
quite different. “‘Rowing”’ toward the roof of your house,
as if it used first one wing, then the other, its flight, while
swift and powerful, is stiff and mechanical compared with
the graceful, gliding swallow’s, and its entire aspect sug-
gestsabat. The night-hawk and whippoorwill are its rel-
atives, and it resembles them not a little in its crepuscular
habits.

The name of the chimney swift is everything it ought to
be. No other birds can surpass and few can equal it in its

152 BIRDS

powerful flight, sometimes covering a thousand miles in
twenty-four hours, it is said, and never resting except in its
roosting places (hollow trees or chimneys of dwellings),
where it does not perch, but rather clings to the sides with
its sharp claws, partly supported by its sharper tail.
Audubon tells of a certain plane tree in Kentucky where he
counted more than nine thousand of these swifts clinging
to the hollow trunk.

Old-fashioned swifts still nest in hollow trees or caves,
but chimneys are so much more abundant and convenient,
that up-to-date birds prefer them. Without stopping in
their flight, the parent swifts snap off with their beaks or
feet little twigs at the ends of dead branches, and these
they carry, one by one, into a chimney, gluing them against
the side until they have finished an almost flat, shelf-like
lattice cradle. Where do they get their glue? Only during
the nesting season do certain glands in their mouths secrete
a brownish fluid that quickly gums and hardens when ex-
posed to the air. After nursery duties have ended, the
gland shrinks from disuse. When the basket has been
stuck against a chimney-side, it looks as if it were covered
with a thin coat of isinglass. On this lattice from four to
six white eggs are laid. Mid-summer fires on the hearth
sometimes melt the glue when “down tumble cradle and
babies and all.”

When the baby swifts are old enough to climb out of the
lattice, they still cling near it for about a fortnight waiting
for their wings to grow strong before they try to leave the
chimney. Apparently they hang themselves up to go to
sleep. Doubtless they would fall but for their short, thin,
stiff-pointed tail feathers which help to prop them up where
they cling to the rough bricks and mortar of the chimney

SOME QUEER RELATIONS 153

lining. Woodpeckers also prop themselves with their tail

feathers, but against tree trunks. Not until swifts are a
month old do the lazy little fellows climb out of their deep,
dark cavern into the boundless sky, which is their true
home. No birds are more tireless, rapid flyers than they.
Their small feet, weak from disuse, could scarcely hold
them on a perch.

With mouths agape from ear to ear, the swifts draw in
an insect dinner piecemeal, as they course through the air
in their peculiar, throbbing flight, just as the whippoor-
will, night-hawk, and swallows do. Fortunate the house
where a colony elect to live, for they rid the air of myriads
of gnats and mosquitoes, as they fly about overhead, sil-
houetted against the sky. Early in the morning and late
in the afternoon are their hours for exercise. Although
the swift is actually shorter than a sparrow, its spread
wings measure more than a foot across from tip to tip. No
wonder it can fly every waking moment without feeling
tired, and journey from Labrador to Central America for
a winter holiday.

The Ruby-throated Humming-bird

Length—3.5 to 3.75 inches. A trifle more than half as
long as the English sparrow. The smallest bird we have.

Male—Bright metallic green above; wings and tail dark-
est, with ruddy-purplish reflections and dusky-white
tips on outer tail-quills. Throat and breast brilliant
metallic-red in one light, orange flame in another, and
dusky orange in another. Sides greenish; underneath
lightest gray, with whitish border outlining the bril-
liant breast. Bill long and needle-like.

154 BIRDS

Female—Without the brilliant feathers on throat; darker
gray beneath. Outer tail-quills are banded with black
and tipped with white.

Range—Eastern North America, from northern Canada
to the Gulf of Mexico in summer. Winters in Central
America.

Migrations—May. October. Common summer resident.

This smallest, most exquisite, and unabashed of our bird
neighbors cannot be mistaken, for it is the only one of its
kin found east of the Plains and north of Florida, although
about four hundred species, native only to the New World,
have been named by scientists. How does it happen that
this little tropical jewel alone flashes about our northern
gardens? What tempts him so far north? Every one
knows that certain flowers depend upon certain insect
friends to carry their pollen from blossom to blossom that
they may set fertile seed; but certain other flowers depend
upon the humming-bird. Only his tongue, that may be
run out beyond his long, slender bill and turned around
curves, could reach the drops of nectar in the tips of the
wild columbine’s five inverted horns of plenty, for example.
The monarda or bee-balm, too, hides a sweet sip in each
of its red tubes for his special benefit. So does the coral
honeysuckle, the jewel-weed, and cardinal flower. There
are many other flowers that cater to him, especially,
by wearing his favorite color, by hiding nectar so deep that
only his long tongue can drain it, and by opening in or-
derly succession so that he shall fare well throughout the
summer, not have a feast one month and a famine the
next. In addition to these flowers in Nature’s garden

SOME QUEER RELATIONS 155

that minister to his needs, many that have been brought
from the ends of the earth to our garden plots please him
no less. The canna, nasturtium, phlox, trumpet-flower,
salvia, and a host of others, delight his eye and his
palate, so that it is well worth while to plant his favorites
in our gardens if only for the joy of seeing him about.
He is wonderfully neighborly, coming to the flower-beds
or window-boxes for small insects as well as nectar, with
undaunted familiarity in the presence of the family.
The little bird is not always so amiable by any means. A
fierce duellist, he will lunge his rapier-like bill at another
hummer with deadly thrusts. A battle of the squeaking
midgets in mid-air is a sorry sight.

You may know a male by the brilliant metallic-red
feathers on his throat. His mate lacks these, but her
brilliancy has another outlet, for she is one of the most
expert nest builders in the world. An exquisitely dainty
little cup of plant down, felted into a compact cradle and
stuccoed with bits of lichen bound on by spider web, can
scarcely be told from a knot on the limb to which it is
fastened. Two eggs, not larger than beans, in time give
place to two downy hummers about the size of honey-bees.
Perhaps you have seen pigeons pump food down the
throats of their squabs? In this same way are baby hum-
ming-birds fed. After about three weeks in the nest, the
young are ready to fly; but they rest on perches the first
month of their independence more than at any time
afterward. No weak-footed relative of the swift could live
long off the wing. It is good-bye to summer when the
last humming-bird forsakes our frost-nipped northern
gardens for happier hunting grounds far away.

CHAPTER XIV
CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS

Fruicker—RED-HEADED WoopPECKER—YELLOW-BELLIED
WoopPECKER—Downy WoopPrEcKER—Harry Woop-
PECKER

If, as you walk through some old orchard or along the
borders of a woodland tangle, you see a high-shouldered,
stocky bird clinging fast to the side of a tree “as if he had
been thrown at it and stuck,”’ you may be very sure he is a
woodpecker. Four of our five common, non-union car-
penters wear striking black and white suits, patched or
striped, the males with red on their heads, the females with
less of this jaunty touch of color perhaps, or none, but
wearing otherwise similar clothes. Only the dainty little
black and white creeping warbler could possibly be con-
fused with the smallest of these sturdy, matter-of-fact
artisans, although chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, and
kinglets also haunt the bark of trees; but the largest of
these is smaller than downy, the smallest of the wood-
peckers. One of the carpenters, the big flicker, an original
fellow, is dressed in soft browns, yellow, white and black,
with the characteristic red patch across the back of his
neck.

It is easy to tell a woodpecker at sight or even beyond
it, when you see or hear him hammering for a dinner, or

156

CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS 157

drumming a love song, or chiselling out a home in some
partly decayed tree. How cheerfully his vigorous taps
resound! Hammer, chisel, pick, drill, and drum—all
these instruments in one stout bill—and a flexible barbed
spear for a tongue that may be run out far beyond his bill,
like the humming-bird’s, make the woodpecker the best-
equipped workman in the woods. All the other birds
that pick insect eggs, grubs, beetles, and spiders from the
bark could go all over a tree and feast, and the wood-
pecker might follow them and still find plenty left,
borers especially, hidden so deep that only his sticky,
barbed tongue could drag them out.

When his body is flattened against the tree’s side you
wonder why he doesn’t fall off. For the same reason that
the swifts, that sleep against the inside walls of chimneys,
do not fall down to the hearths below. Like them and the
bobolink, woodpeckers prop themselves by their out-
spread, stiffened tails. Moreover, they have their toes
arranged in a curious way—two in front and two behind,
so that they can hold on to a section of bark very much as
an iceman holds a piece of ice between his tongs. Smooth
bark conceals no larvae nor does it offer a foothold, which
is why you are likely to see woodpeckers only on the trunks
or the larger limbs of trees where old, scaly bark grows.

The Flicker

Length—12 to 13 inches. About one fourth as large again
as the robin.

Male and Female—Top of head and neck bluish gray, with
a red crescent across back of neck and a black crescent
on breast. Male has black cheek-patches that are

158 BIRDS

wanting in female. Golden brown shading into brown-
ish gray, and barred with black above. Underneath
light milky chocolate spotted with black. Wing linings,
shafts of wing, and tail-quills bright yellow. White
patch on lower back above tail, conspicuous when the
bird flies.

Range—United States, east of Rockies; Alaska and British
America, south of Hudsons Bay. Occasional on Pa-
cific Slope.

Migrations—Most commonly seen from April to October.

If we were to follow the thirty-six aliases by which this
largest and commonest of our five common woodpeckers
is known throughout its wide range, we should find all its
peculiarities of color, flight, noises, and habits indicated
in its popular names, some of which are golden-winged
woodpecker, yellow hammer, high hole, yarup, and pigeon
woodpecker. It cannot but attract attention wherever
seen, with its beautiful plumage, conspicuously yellow if
its outstretched wings are looked at from below, conspicu-
ously brown if seen upon the ground. At a distance it
suggests the meadow-lark although it has no yellow breast.
Both of these big brown birds wear black crescent breast
decorations, however, and the flicker also has the habit
of feeding upon the ground, especially in autumn, a char-
acteristic not shared by its relations. It may be easily
distinguished by the white patch on its lower back seen as
it flies away.

Early in the spring this bird of many names and many
voices makes itself known by a long, strong, sonorous
call, like a prolonged jovial laugh, Wicky-wick-wick-wick!

CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS \ 159

which differs from its rapidly repeated, mellow, and musi-
cal cuh, cuh, cuh, cuh, cuh, and the rolling tattoo of the
nesting season. Its nasal kee-yer, vigorously called out
in the autumn, is less characteristic, however, than the
sound it makes while associating with its fellows—a sound
that may be closely imitated by the swishing of a switch.
Yar-up is another call.

See the flicker feeding on the ground instead of on the
striped and mottled tree trunks, where its black and
white striped relatives are usually found, and you will
realize that it wears brown clothes, finely barred, because
they harmonize so perfectly with the brown earth. What
does it find on the ground that keeps it there so much of the
time? Look at the spot it has just flown from and you
will doubtless find ants. These are its chief diet. Three
thousand of them, for a single meal, it has been known to
lick out of a hill with its long, round, extensile, sticky
tongue. But it likes acorns, too. Evidently this lusty
woodpecker needs no tonic. Its tail, which is less rounded
than its cousins’, proves that it has little need to prop
itself against tree trunks to pick out a dinner; and its
curved bill, which is more of a pickaxe than a hammer,
drill, or chisel, is little used as a carpenter’s tool except
when a high hole is to be dug out of soft, decayed wood
for a nest and winter home. The funny fellow spreads
his tail and dances when he goes a-courting.

Flickers condescend to use old holes deserted by their
relatives who possess better tools. You must have
noticed all through these bird biographies that the struc-
ture and coloring of every bird are adapted to its kind of
life, each member of the same family varying according to
its habits. The kind of food a bird eats and its method of

160 BIRDS

getting it, of course, bring about most, if not all, of the
variations from the family type. Each is fitted for its own
life, “even as you and I.”

Like the pigeon, the humming-bird, and several other
birds, parent flickers pump partly digested food from their
own crops into those of their hungry fledglings. Luckily
they do not need to carry ants to them one by one.

The Red-headed Woodpecker

Length—8.5 to 9.75 inches. An inch or less smaller than
the robin.

Male and Female—Head, neck, and throat crimson; breast
and underneath white; back black and white; wings and
tail blue black, with broad white band on wings con-
spicuous in flight.

Range—United States, east of Rocky Mountains, except
New England, and north to Manitoba.

Migrations—Abundant but irregular.

A pair of red-headed woodpeckers, who made their home
in an old tree next the station yard at Atlanta, where loco-
motives clanged, puffed, whistled, and shrieked all day
long, evidently enjoyed the noise, for the male liked noth-
ing better than to add to it by tapping on one of the glass
non-conductors around which a telegraph wire ran.
When first the handsome, tri-colored fellow was seen there
he was almost enveloped in a cloud of smoke escaping from
a puffing locomotive on the track next the telegraph pole,
yet he tapped away unconcerned and as merrily as you
would play a two-step on the piano. When the vapor

CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS 161

blew away, his glossy bluish black and white feathers, laid
on in big patches, were almost as conspicuous as his red
head, throat, and upper breast.

All the woodpeckers have musical tastes. Tin roofs,
leaders, and gutters everywhere are popular tapping places.
Certain dry, dead, seasoned limbs of hardwood trees re-
sound better than others and a woodpecker in love is sure
to find out the best one in the spring when he beats a rolling
tattoo in the hope of charming his best beloved. He has
no need to sing, which is why he doesn’t.

Fence posts are the red-head’s favorite resting places.
From these he will make sudden sallies in mid-air, like a
flycatcher, after a passing insect; then return to his post.

The blue jay has the thrifty habit of storing nuts for the
proverbial rainy day, and the shrike hangs up his meat to
cure on a thorn tree like a butcher. Red-headed wood-
peckers, who are especially fond of beechnuts, acorns, and
grasshoppers, hide them away, squirrel fashion, in tree
cavities, in fence holes, crevices in old barns, between
shingles on the roof, behind bulging boards, in the ends of
railroad ties, in all sorts of queer places, to feast upon them
in winter when the land is lean. Who knows whether
other woodpeckers have hoarding places? The sapsucker,
the hairy and the downy woodpeckers also like beechnuts;
the flicker prefers acorns; but do they store them for winter
use? The red-head’s thrifty habit was only recently dis-
covered: has it been only recently acquired? It must be
simpler to store the summer’s surplus than to travel to a
land of plenty when winter comes. Heretofore this red-
headed cousin has been reckoned a migratory member of
the home-loving woodpecker clan, but only where he could
not find plenty of food to keep him through the winter.

162 BIRDS

The Yellow-bellied Woodpecker

Length—8 to 8.6 inches. About one fifth smaller than the
robin.

Male—Black, white, and yellowish white above, with
bright red crown, chin, and throat. Breast black, in
form of crescent. A yellowish white line, beginning at
bill and passing below eye, merges into the pale yellow of
the bird underneath. Wings spotted with white, and
coverts chiefly white. Tail black; white on middle of
feathers.

Female—Paler and with head and throat white.

Range—Eastern North America, from Labrador to Cen-
tral America.

Migrations—April. October. Resident north of Massa-
chusetts.

This woodpecker commonly called the sapsucker I am
sorry to introduce to you as the black sheep of his family,
with scarcely a friend to speak a good word for him.
Murder is committed on his immensely useful relatives,
who have the misfortune to look ever so little like him
simply because ignorant people’s minds are firmly fixed in
the belief that every woodpecker is a sapsucker, therefore a
tree-killer, which only this miscreant is, and very rarely. -
The rest of the family who drill holes in a tree harmlessly, .
even beneficially, do so because they are probing for in-
sects. The sapsucker alone drills rings or belts of holes for
the sake of getting at the soft, nutritious inner bark, the
cambium layer, and drinking the sap that trickles from it.

Mrs. Eckstorm, who has made a careful study of the

CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS 163

woodpeckers in a charming little book that every bird-
lover should read, tells of a certain sapsucker that came
silently and early in the autumn mornings to feed on a
favorite mountain ash tree near her dining-room window.
In time this rascal killed the tree. “Early in the day he
showed considerable activity,” writes Mrs. Eckstorm,
“flitting from limb to limb and sinking a few holes, three or
four in a row, usually above the previous upper girdle of the
limbs he selected to work upon. After he had tapped
several limbs, he would sit patiently waiting for the sap to
flow, lapping it up quickly when the drop was large enough.
At first he would be nervous, taking alarm at noises and
wheeling away on his broad wings till his fright was over,
when he would steal quietly back to his sapholes. When
not alarmed, his only movement was from one row of holes
to another, and he tended them with considerable regular-
ity. As the day wore on he became less excitable, and
clung cloddishly to his tree trunk with ever-increasing tor-
pidity, until finally he hung motionless as if intoxicated,
tippling in sap, a dishevelled, smutty, silent bird, stupefied
with drink, with none of that brilliancy of plumage and
light-hearted gaiety which made him the noisiest and most
conspicuous bird of our April woods.”

But it must be admitted that very rarely does the sap-
sucker girdle a tree with holes enough to sap away its life.
He may have an orgy of intemperance once in a while, but
much should be forgiven an erring one as dexterous as a
flycatcher in taking insects on the wing and with a hearty
appetite for pests. Wild fruit and soft-shelled nuts he
likes, too. He never bores a tree to get insects as his
cousins do, for only when a nest must be chiselled out is he
a wood pecker in the strict sense.

164 BIRDS

The Downy Woodpecker

Length—6 to 7 inches. About the size of the English
sparrow. .

Male and Female—Black above, striped with white. Tail
shaped like a wedge. Outer tail feathers white, barred
with black. Middle tail feathers black. A black stripe
on top of head, and distinct white band over and under
the eyes. Red patch on nape of neck—lacking in fe-
male. Wings with six white bands crossing them
transversely; white underneath.

Range—Eastern North America, from Labrador to Florida.

Migrations—Resident all the year throughout its range.

A hardy little friend is the downy woodpecker who, like
the chickadee, stays by us the year around. Probably no
other two birds are so useful in our orchards as these, that
keep up a tireless search for the insect robbers of our fruit.
Wintry weather can be scarcely too severe for either, for
both wear a warm coat of fat under their skins and both
have the comfort of a snug retreat when bitter blasts blow.

Downy is too good a carpenter to neglect making a cozy
eavity for himself in autumn, just as the hairy woodpecker
does. The chickadee, titmouse, nuthatches, bluebird, wren,
tree swallow, sparrow-hawk, crested flycatcher, and owls,
are not the only birds that are thankful to occupy his
snug quarters in some old tree after he has moved out in
the spring to the new nursery that his mate and he make for
their family. He knows the advantage of a southern ex-
posure for his hollow home and chisels his winter quarters
deep enough to escape a draft. Here he lives in single

CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS 165

blessedness with no thought now for the comfort of his
mate, who, happily, is quite as good a carpenter as he, and
as able to care for herself. She may make a winter home
or keep the nursery.

Very early in'the spring you will hear the downy, like the
other woodpeckers, beating a rolling tattoo on some reso-
nant limb, and if you can creep close enough you will see his
strong head hammering so fast that there is only a blur
above his shoulders. This drumming is his love song.
The grouse is even a more wonderful performer, for he
drums without a drum, which no woodpecker can do. The
woodpecker drums not only to win a mate, however, but to
tell where a tree is decayed and likely to be an easy spot
to chisel, and also to startle borers beneath the bark, that
he may know just where to tunnel for them, when they
move with a faint noise, which his sharp ears instantly de-
tect.

This master workman, who is scarcely larger than an
English sparrow, occasionally pauses in his hammering
long enough to utter a short, sharp peek, peek, often con-
tinued into a rattling cry that ends as abruptly as it began.
You may know him from his larger and louder-voiced
cousin, the hairy woodpecker, not only by this call-note,
but by the markings of the outer tail feathers, which, in the
downy, are white barred with black; and in the hairy, are
white without the black bars. Both birds are much
striped and barred with black and white and the novice
could confuse them only with the black and white creeping
warbler.

When the weather grows cold, hang a bone with a little
meat on it, cooked or raw, or a lump of suet in some tree
beyond the reach of cats; then watch for the downy wood-

166 BIRDS

pecker’s and the chickadee’s visits to your free-lunch
counter.

The Hairy Woodpecker

Light woods, with plenty of old trees in them, suit this
busy carpenter better than orchards or trees close to our
homes, for except during the winter months, he is more shy
than his sociable little cousin, downy, whom he as closely
resembles in feathers as in habits. He is three inches
longer, however, yet a little smaller than a robin. In spite
of his name, he is covered with black and white feathers,
not hairs. He has a hairy stripe only down the middle of
his broadly striped white and black back; but the un-
spotted white outer tail feathers are his distinguishing
marks. The female lacks his red head decoration.

After he and his mate have decided to go to housekeep- |
ing, they select a tree—a hollow-hearted or partly decayed
one is preferred—and begin the hard work of cutting out a
deep cavity. Try to draw freehand a circle by making a
series of dots, as the woodpecker outlines his round front
door, and see, if you please, whether you can make so per-
fect a ring. Downy’s entrance need be only an inch anda
half across; the hairy’s must be a little larger, and the
flicker requires a hole about four inches in diameter to
admit his big body. Both mates work in turn at the nest
hole. How the chips fly! Braced in position by stiff tail |
feathers and clinging by his stout toes, the woodpecker
keeps hammering and chiselling at his home more hours
every day than a labor union would allow. Two inches of
digging with his strong combination tool means a hard
day’s work. The hole usually runs straight in for a few
inches, then curves downward into a pear-shaped cham-

CARPENTERS IN FEATHERS 167

ber large enough for a comfortable nursery. A week
or ten days may be spent by a couple in making it. The
chips by which this good workman is known are left on
the nursery floor, for woodpeckers do not pamper their
babies with fine grasses, feathers, or fur cradle linings, as
the chickadee and some other birds do. A well-regulated
woodpecker’s nest contains five glossy-white eggs.

Sheltered from the rain, wind, and sun, hidden from al-
most every enemy except the red squirrel, the little wood-
peckers lie secure in their dark, warm nursery, with no ex-
citement except the visits of their parents with a fat grub.
Then how quickly they scramble up the walls toward the
light and dinner!

CHAPTER XV
KINGFISHER AND CUCKOOS

Brettep KINGFISHER—YELLOW-BILLED AND BLACK-
BILLED Cuckoos

The Belted Kingfisher

Length—12 to 13 inches. About one fourth as large again
as the robin.

Male—Upper part grayish blue, with prominent crest on
head reaching to the nape. A white spot in front of
the eye. Bill longer than the head, which is large and
heavy. Wings and the short tail minutely speckled
and marked with broken bands of white. Chin, band
around throat, and underneath white. A bluish band
across upper breast and a bl uish wash on sides.

Female—Female and immature specimens have rusty
bands where the adult male’s are blue. Plumage of
both birds oily.

Range—North America, except where the Texan kingfisher
replaces it in a limited area in the Southwest. Com-
mon from Labrador to Florida, east and west. Win-
ters chiefly from Virginia southward to South America.

Migrations—March. December. Common summer resi-
dent. Except in frozen northern limits of range, usu-
ally a winter resident also.

168

KINGFISHER AND CUCKOOS 169

This Izaak Walton of birddom, whom you may see
perched as erect as a fish hawk on a snag in the lake, creek,
or river, or on a dead limb projecting over the water, on
the lookout for minnows, chub, red fins, samlets, or any
other small fry that swims past, is as expert as any fisher-
man you are ever likely to know. Sharp eyes are neces-
sary to see a little fish where sunbeams dance on the rip-
ples and the refracted light plays queer tricks with one’s
vision. Once a victim is sighted, how swiftly the lone
fisherman dives through the air and water after it, and
how accurately he strikes its death-blow behind the gills!
If the fish be large and lusty it may be necessary to carry
it to the snag and give it a few sharp knocks with his long,
powerful bill to end its struggles. These are soon over,
but the kingfisher’s have only begun. See him gag and
writhe as he swallows his dinner, head first, and then, re-
gretting his haste, brings it up again to try a wider avenue
down his throat. Somebody shot a kingfisher which had
tried to swallow so large a fish that the tail was sticking
out of his mouth, while its head was safely stored below
in the bird’s crop. After the meat digests, the indigestible
skin, bones, and scales of the fish are thrown up without
the least nausea.

A certain part of a favorite lake or stream this fisher-
man patrols with a sense of ownership and rarely leaves it.
Alone, but self-satisfied, he clatters up and down his beat
as a policeman, going his rounds, might sound his rattle
from time to time. The bird knows every pool where
minnows play, every projection along the bank where a
fish might hide, and is ever on the alert, not only to catch a
dinner, but to escape from the sight of the human being
who intrudes on his domain and wants to “know” him.

170 BIRDS
You cannot mistake this big, chunky bird, fully a foot

long, with grayish-blue upper parts, the long, strong wings,

and short, square tail dotted in broken bars of white, and
with a heavy bluish band across his white breast. His
mate and children wear rusty bands instead of blue. The
crested feathers on top of his big, powerful head reach
backward to the nape like an Indian chief’s feather war-
bonnet, and give him distinction. Under his thick, oily
plumage, as waterproof as a duck’s, he wears a suit of down
underclothing.

No doubt you have heard that all birds are descended
from reptile ancestors; that feathers are but modified scales,
and that a bird’s song is but the glorified hiss of the ser-
pent. Then the kingfisher and the bank swallow retain
at least one ancient custom of their ancestors, for they
still place their eggs in the ground. The lone fisherman
chooses a mate early in the spring and, with her help, he
tunnels a hole in a bank next a good fishing ground. A
minnow pool furnishes the most approved baby food.
Perhaps the mates will work two or three weeks before
they have tunnelled far enough to suit them and made
@ spacious nursery at the end of the long hall. Usually
from five to eight white eggs are laid about six feet from
the entrance on a bundle of grass, or perhaps on a heap of
ejected fish bones and refuse. While his queen broods,
the devoted kingfisher brings her the best of his catch.
At first their young are as bare and skinny as cuckoos.
When the father or mother bird flies up-stream with a fish
for them, giving a rattling call instead of ringing a dinner
bell, all the hungry youngsters rush forward to the mouth

of the tunnel; but only one can be satisfied each trip.

Then all run backward through the inclined tunnel, like

KINGFISHER AND CUCKOOS 171

reversible steam engines, and keep tightly huddled to-
gether until the next exciting rattle is heard. Both par-
ents are always on guard to drive off mink, rats, and water
snakes, that are the terrors of their nursery.

The Yellow-billed and Black-billed Cuckoos

Length—11 to 12 inches. About one fifth longer than the
robin. .

Male and Female—Grayish brown above, with bronze
tint in feathers. Underneath grayish white. Bill,
which is as long as head, arched, acute, and more robust
than the black-billed species, and with lower mandible
yellow. Wings washed with cinnamon-brown. Tail
has outer quills black, conspicuously marked with white
thumb-nail spots. Female larger.

Range—North America, from Mexico to Labrador.
Most common in temperate climates. Rare on Pacific
Slope.

Migrations—Late April. September. Summer resident.

Kak, k-kuk, k-kuk, k-kuk ! like an exaggerated tree-
toad’s rattle, is a sound that, when first heard, makes you
rush out of doors instantly to name the bird. Look for
him in the depths of the tall shrubbery or low trees, near
running water, if there is any in the neighborhood, and
if you are more fortunate than most people, you will pres-
ently see the yellow-billed cuckoo glide silently among the
foliage, and perform some active, graceful evolutions
there. When seen at a little distance, his large, slim
body, grayish brown, with olive tints above and whitish

172 BIRDS

below, can scarcely be distinguished from that of the
black-billed species which has a similar unmusical gut-
tural, kr-r-ruck, kr-r-ruck rattle and some cow, cow,
cow notes run together. It is not until you get close
enough to note the yellow bill, reddish brown wings, and
black tail feathers with their white “thumb-nail” marks,
that you know which cuckoo you are watching. If you
were to dip your thumb in white paint, then pinch the
outer quills of the yellow-billed cuckoo’s dark tail feathers,
you would leave similar marks.

Most birds will not touch the hairy, fuzzy caterpillars
—very disagreeable mouthfuls, one would think. But
happily cuckoos enjoy them as well as the smooth, slip-
pery kind. “I guess they like the custard inside,” said a
little boy who had stepped on a fat caterpillar on the
garden path. “Cuckoos might well be called caterpillar
birds,” wrote Florence Merriam Bailey, “for they are so
given to a diet of the hairy caterpillars that the walls of
their stomachs are actually permeated with the hairs,
and a section of stomach looks like the smoothly brushed
top of a gentleman’s beaver hat.”” When you see the
webs that the tent caterpillar, toward the end of summer,
stretches across the ends of the branches of fruit and nut
trees, especially wild cherry trees—watch for the cuckoo’s
visits. Orioles, also, tear open the webs to get at the
wiggling morsels inside, but they leave dead and mutilated
remains behind them, showing that their appetite for
web worms is less keen than that of the cuckoos, who eat
them up clean. Fortunately the caterpillar of the terribly
destructive gypsy moth is another favorite dainty.

Perhaps you have heard that the cuckoo, like the cow-
bird, builds no nest and lays its eggs in other birds’

KINGFISHER AND CUCKOOS 173

i
cradles? This is true only of the European cuckoo,
that we all know in cuckoo clocks and the pages of Chau-
cer, Shakespeare, and other English poets. Its American
cousin makes a poor apology for a nest, it is true, merely a
loose bundle or platform of sticks, as flimsily put together
as a dove’s nest. The greenish-blue eggs or the naked
babies must certainly fall through, one would think.
Still—poor thing though it be—it is all the cuckoos’ own,
and they are proud of it. But so sensitive and fearful
_are they when a human visitor inspects their nursery that
they will usually desert it, never to return, if you touch
it, so beware of peeping!

When the skinny cuckoo babies are a few days old,
blue pin-feathers begin to appear, and presently their
bodies are stuck full of fine, sharply pointed quills like a
well-stocked pin cushion or a “fretful porcupine.” But
presto! every pin-feather suddenly fluffs out the day be-
fore the youngsters leave the nest, and they are clothed in
a suit of soft feathers like their parents. In a few months
young cuckoos, hatched as far north as New England
and Canada or even Labrador, are strong enough to fly
to Central or South America to spend the winter.

CHAPTER XVI
NIGHT AND DAY GAME HUNTERS

ScrEEcH Owi-—BarrRepD Owx—SxHort-EARED OwL—
Lonc-EaRED Owi-—Barn Owt-—Osprey—SPARROW-
HAWK—BaLD EaGLe aNnpD GOLDEN EaGLE—REp-
SHOULDERED Hawk—REeEbD-TAILED Hawk—Coorper’s
Hawk AND THE SHARP-SHINNED Hawxk—Marsa
Hawk—TvurkeEy VULTURE

The Screech Owl

Length—8.5 to 9.5 inches. About as long as a robin.

Male and Female—Brownish red phase: Upper parts rusty
red, finely streaked with blackish brown and mottled
with light brown; under parts whitish or buff, the
feathers centrally streaked with black and with irregular
rusty bars. Eyes yellow; legs and feet covered with
short feathers; prominent ear tufts. Gray phase:
Upper parts ashen gray streaked with black and finely
mottled with yellow; under parts white, finely streaked
and barred irregularly with black, more or less bordered
with rusty. Immature birds have entire plumage reg-
ularly barred with rusty, gray, and white.

Range—Eastern North America.

Season—Permanent resident.

174

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 175

Owls have a peculiarly flexible, reversible hind toe; eyes
not capable of being rolled but set firmly in the sockets,
necessitating the turning of the head to see in different di-
rections; feathered discs around the eyes; loose, mottled
plumage, some species with feathered ear tufts (horns),
others without; hooked beaks and muscular feet for perch-
ing and for grasping prey and the ability to fly almost
silently—these are their chief characteristics. Birds of the
woodland, more rarely of grassy marshes and plains, nearly
all nocturnal in habits, since their food consists mostly of
small mammals that steal abroad at night to destroy the
farmer’s crops, the owls are among the most valuable of
birds to the agriculturist. Unless too large, the prey is
bolted entire—the hair, claws, bones, etc., being afterward
ejected in matted pellets.

Why the little screech owl should wear such freaky
plumage as that described above—rusty red one time,
mottled gray and black another, without reference to age,
sex, or season, is one of the bird mysteries awaiting solu-
tion. Frequently birds of the same brood will be wearing
different colored feathers. In the transition from one
phase to another, many variations of color and markings
appear; but however clothed, we may certainly know the
little screech owl by its prominent ear tufts or horns, taken
in connection with its small size. Like the little saw-whet
owl, which, however, wears no horns, people who live in
cities are most familiar with it on women’s hats, worn en-
tire or cut up in sections.

A weird, sweet, whistled shivering tremolo from under
our very windows startles us, as the uncanny voices of all
owls do, however familiar we may be with the little
sereecher. Are any superstitions more absurd than those

176 BIRDS

associated with these harmless birds? Because it makes
its home so near ours, often in some crevice of them, in
fact, in the hollow of a tree in the orchard, or around the
barn lofts, this is probably the most familiar owl to the
majority of Canadians and Americans. It keeps closely
concealed by day, often in a dense evergreen or in its
favorite hollow; and we should not know of its near-by
presence in the neighborhood except for the persecutions of
the blue jay which takes a mischievous delight in rousing it
from its slumbers for the little song birds to mock at as it

flies, bewildered and blinded by the sunlight.

The Barred Owl

Length—18 to 20 inches; female the larger.

Male and Female—Upper parts grayish brown, each
feather with two or three white or buff bars; facial disk
gray, finely barred or mottled with dusky; eyes bluish
black, and bill yellow; under parts white washed with
buff; the breast barred; the sides and underneath
streaked with dusky; legs and feet feathered to nails;
wings and tail barred with brown; no ear tufts.

Range—Eastern United States to Nova Scotia and Mani-
toba; west to Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas, and Texas;
nesting throughout range.

Season—Permanent resident.

Whoo-whoo-too-whoo-too-o-o, with endless variation, a
deep-toned, guttural, weird, startling sound, like the wail
of some lost soul asking its way through the dark, and
haw-haw-hoo-hoo, like a coarse, mocking laugh, come from
this noisy hoot owl between dusk and midnight, rarely at

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 177

sunrise, more rarely still by day, sometimes from a solitary
hooter, sometimes in a duet sung out of time. Every one
knows the hoot, but few people who know its voice will ever
see its smooth round head and bland, almost human face.
One hears it most frequently at the nesting season. Once
in a very great while this owl gives a shriek to make one’s
blood curdle. Many of us have attracted the bird by
imitating its notes. Because the voice of the great horned
owl, that “Lord High Executioner,”’ is so like it, the barred
owl is credited with its larger kinsman’s atrocities and
shot. Its own talons are not wholly guiltless of innocent
blood, to be sure, since out of one hundred and nine
stomachs examined for the Department of Agriculture,
five contained young poultry or game, and thirteen other
birds; but more than one third contained mice and other
small mammals; frogs, fish, lizards, and insects filled the
remainder, which goes to prove that, in spite of the average
farmer’s belief to the contrary, this owl renders him posi-
tive service.

“As useless as a last year’s nest,” can have no meaning to
a pair of these hardy owls that go about toward the end of
winter looking for a deserted woodpecker’s nestor a hawk’s,
crow’s, or squirrel’s bulky cradle in some tree-top. Ever
after they hold it as their own. They are the largest
common owls of the family, and few dispossessed owners
care to dispute their rights.

The Short-eared Owl

Length—14 to 17 inches; female the larger.
Male and Female—Ear tufts inconspicuous; face disk white,
or nearly so, minutely speckled with blackish, and with

178 BIRDS

large black eye patches and yellow eyes; upper parts
dusky brown, the feathers margined with yellow; under
parts whitish or buff, the breast broadly streaked, never
mottled, with brown, and underneath more finely and
sparingly streaked; tail barred with buff and dusky
bands of equal width. Bill and claws dusky blue black;
legs feathered with buff.

Range—Nearly cosmopolitan; throughout North America,
and nesting from Virginia northward.

Season—Chiefly a migratory visitor; April, November;
also a resident in many sections.

Here is an ow! that breaks through several family tra-
ditions, for it does not live in woods, neither does it con-
fine its hunting excursions to the dark hours; but, living in
the marshes or grassy meadows, it frequently flies abroad
by day, especially in cloudy weather, after two o’clock in
the afternoon, as well as at night. Another unconventional
trait it has: it makes its nest of hay and sticks on the
ground instead of in hollow trees or upper parts of build-
ings; and one nest that contained six white eggs, discovered
in a lonely marsh where the bittern was the owl’s nearest
neighbor, was in a tussock quite surrounded by water.
The bittern, that misanthropic recluse, springing into the
air, was off at once, dangling its legs behind it; whereas the
marsh owl, as this is sometimes called, is not at all shy, and
simply stared and blinked, with a half-human expression
of wonder on its face, until the intruder became too im-
pertinent and lifted it off its nest. Even then it did noth-
ing more spiteful than to sharply click its bill as it circled
about just overhead. Yet there seems to be a popular

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 179

‘impression that this owl is fierce. In the West the bur-
rows of ground squirrels and rabbits or the hole of a musk-
rat have been utilized, since none of the owls is overscrupu-
lous about appropriating other creatures’ homes, however
much attached a pair may become to a spot that has once
cradled their brood. Still another peculiarity of this owl
is that it is almost never seen to alight on a tree; the ground
is its usual resting place, a stump or knoll a high enough
point of vantage. Mice, gophers, and insects of various
kinds, which are its food, keep this hunter close to earth;
and as it flies low, and does not take to wing until fairly
stepped on, it encourages close acquaintance, thereby
earning a reputation for being the most abundant species
in the United States.

The Long-eared Owl or Cat Owl

This bird, of richer coloring than the preceding and with
longtuftsor horns, is about the same size, but more nocturnal
in its habits, and it favors drier wooded habitats. Most of
this horned owl’s nests (frequently the former homeof a crow
of hawk) areintrees. Itis chiefly at the nesting season that
these usually silent birds lift up their voices. “‘ When at ease
and not molested,” says Captain Bendire, “the few notes
which I have heard them utter are low toned and rather
pleasing than otherwise. One of these is a soft-toned
wu-hunk, wu-hunk, slowly and several times repeated.

. Another is a low, twittering, whistling note, like
dicky, dicky, dicky, quite different from anything usually
expected from the owl family. In the early spring they
hoot somewhat like a screech owl, and may often be heard
on a still evening; but their notes are more subdued than

180 BIRDS

those of the latter.” The most common cry of the long-
eared owl, the one that has given it its popular name, is a
prolonged me-ow-ow-ow, so like a cat’s ery that it would
seem folly for a bird that lives chiefly on mice to utter it.

The Barn Owl

Length—15 to 18 inches; ' female the larger.

Male and Female—Upper parts mottled gray and buff
finely speckled with black and white; heart-shaped facial
disks and under parts whitish or buff, the latter with
small round black spots; tail white or buff, mottled with
black, and sometimes with three or four narrow black
bars like the wings; eyes small, black; no horns; long,
feathered legs; long, pointed wings reaching beyond tail.

Range—United States, rarely reaching Canada, south to
Mexico, nesting from New York State southward.

Season—Permanent resident, except at northern limit of
range.

The American counterpart of “wise Minerva’s only
fowl,”’ known best by its startling scream, keeps its odd,
triangular face, its speckled and mottled downy feathers,
and its body, that looks more slender than it really is,
owing to its long wings, well concealed by day; and so
silently does it move about at night that only in the moon-
light can one hope for a passing glimpse as the barn owl
sails about on a wide-spread tapering monoplane, and with
a hawk-like movement, from tree to tree. “The face looks
like that of a toothless, hooked-nosed old woman, shrouded
in a closely fitting hood,” says Mrs. Wright, “and has a

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 181

half-simple, half-sly expression that gives it a mysterious
air.” It is often called the monkey-faced owl.

By day all owls look sleepy and sad, but at dusk, when
rats and mice creep timidly forth, the barn owl, now
thoroughly awake, sallies from its hole and does greater
execution before morning than all the traps in town.
Shrews, bats, frogs, grasshoppers, and beetles enlarge its
bill of fare. A pair of these mousers that had their nest in
an old apple tree near a hayrick that concealed the specta-
tor, brought eight mice to their brood in the hollow trunk in
less than an hour.

The head of a mouse, the favorite tid-bit, is devoured
first; then follows the body, bolted whole if not too large.
One foot usually holds the smaller quarry; but a rat must
be firmly grasped with both feet, and torn apart, before it is
bolted. Since owls swallow skins, bones, and all, these in-
digestible parts are afterward ejected in pellets. Disturb
the owls at their orgy, and they click their bills and hiss in
the most successful attempt they ever make to be ferocious.
They are not quarrelsome even among themselves when
feeding, and the smallest songster can safely tease them to
a point that would goad a less amiable bird to rashness.
A querulous, quavering cry frequently repeated, k-r-1-r-r-r-
rik, suggesting the night jar’s call, is sometimes more
frequently heard than the wild, peevish scream usually
associated with this owl.

In spite of civilization’s tempting offers, a hollow tree
has ever remained the favorite home of the barn owl, that
nevertheless deserves its name, for barns and other out-
buildings on the farm, steeples, and abandoned dove cots
become equally dear to it once they have sheltered a brood.
A pair of these owls nested for years in one of the towers of

182 BIRDS

the old Smithsonian Institution; many eggs have been laid
directly on roofs of dwellings; some in mining shafts;
others in deserted burrows of ground squirrels and other
rodents; in fact, all manner of queer sites are chosen.
Strictly speaking, the barn owl builds no nest, unless the
accumulation of decayed wood, disgorged bones of mice,
etc., among which the eggs are dropped, could be honored
with such a name. From five to eleven pure, dull-white
eggs, more decidedly pointed than those of most owls, are
incubated by both mates, sometimes by both at once, as
they sit huddled together through the hours of unwelcome
sunshine. They can scarcely multiply too fast. The
barn owl does not eat poultry, although it is constantly
shot because of an unfounded belief prevalent among
farmers that it does. From an economic standpoint, it
would be difficult to name a more valuable bird.

The Osprey

Length—Male 2 feet, or a trifle less; female larger.

Male and Female—Upper parts dusky brown, the feathers
edged with white as a bird grows old; head and nape
varied with white and a dark stripe on side of head;
under parts white; the breast of male sometimes
slightly, that of female always, spotted with grayish
brown; tail with six or eight obscure dark bars. Bill
blackish and with long hook.

Range—North America from Hudsons Bay and Alaska to
the Equator; nesting throughout its North American
range.

Season—Summer resident. March to October, except in
southern part of range.

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 183

Is there a more exhilarating sight in the bird kingdom
than the plunge of the osprey? From the height where
it has been circling and coursing above the water, it will
quickly check itself and hover for an instant at sight of a
fish swimming near the surface; then, closing its great
wings, it darts like a streak of lightning, and with unerring
aim strikes the water with a loud splash. Perhaps it will
disappear below for a second before it rises, scattering spray
about it in its struggles to clear the surface, and fly upward
with its prey grasped in its long, powerful, rough talons,
perfectly adapted for holding slippery prey. The fish is
never carried tail end foremost; if caught so, the osprey has
been seen turning it about in mid-air. Small fry are
usually eaten awing; larger game are borne off to a perch,
to be devoured at leisure; and it is said that when an osprey
strikes its talons through the flesh of a fish too heavy to be
lifted from the water, the prey turns captor and drowns his
tormentor, whose claws reaching his vitals soon end his
life, when bird and fish, locked in a death grasp, are washed
ashore. The osprey rarely touches fish of value for the
table; catfish, suckers, and such prey as no one grudges it
form its staple food. Little wonder it is often called the
fish hawk. Ospreys and hawks belong to distinct families,
however, and strictly speaking this bird is not a hawk at
all.

The bald eagle, perched at a high point of vantage, takes
instant note of a successful fisher, and with a majestic
swoop arrives before the osprey has a chance to devour its
prey. Now a desperate chase begins if the intimidated
bird has not already relaxed its grasp of the prize; and pur-
suing the osprey higher and higher, the eagle relentlessly
torments it until it is glad to drop the fish for the pirate to

184 BIRDS

seize and bear away, leaving it temporary peace. Again
the industrious osprey secures a glistening, wriggling
victim; again the eagle pursues his unwilling purveyor,
After unmerciful persecution, a number of ospreys will -
band together and drive away the robber.

Birds of this order show strong affection for their life-
long mates and the young, and for an old nest that is often
a true home at all seasons, and to which they return year
after year if unmolested, simply repairing damages in-
flicted by winter storms. The osprey also shows a marked
preference for a certain perch to which it carries its prey,
and there it will sit sometimes for hours at a time. The
ground below is heavily strewn with bones, scales, and
other indigestible parts of fish. An immense accumulation
of sticks, rushes, weed stalks, shredded bark, salt hay, odds
and ends gathered among the rubbish of seaside cottages,
feathers, and mud make old nests, with their annual ad-
ditions, bulky, conspicuous affairs in the tree-tops. New
nests are comparatively small platforms of sticks, con-
sidering the size of the bird. Both mates incubate.
Colonies of nesters are frequently reported along our
coasts, and instances of a pair of grackles utilizing a corner
of the osprey’s ample cradle for theirs are not rare. In
four weeks or less after their eggs are laid, the ospreys are
kept busy shredding food for their downy, helpless young.
One may readily name them by their white under parts.

The Sparrow-hawk

Length—10 to 11 inches. Sexes the same size, a little

larger than the robin.
Male—Top of head slaty blue, generally with a reddish

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 185

spot on crown, and several black patches on sides and
nape; back rusty brown, with a few black spots or none;
wing coverts ashy blue with or without black spots; tail
bright rufous, white tipped, and with a broad black
band below it, the outer feathers white with black bars;
under parts white or buff, sometimes spotted with
black.

Female—Back, wing coverts, and tail rufous with numer-
ous black bars; under parts plentifully streaked with
dark brown. .

Range—Eastern North America, from Great Slave Lake
to northern South America. Nests from northern
limits of range to Florida; winters from New Jersey
southward.

Season—Summer resident in the northern United States
and Canada; March to October; winter or permanent
resident south of New Jersey.

Perched on a high, dead limb, the crossbar of a tele-
graph pole, a fence post, or some distended branch—such a
point of vantage as a shrike would choose for similar rea-
sons—the beautiful little sparrow-hawk eagerly scans the
field below for grasshoppers, mice, hair sparrows, and other
small quarry to come within range. The instant its prey
is sighted, it launches itself into the air, hovers over its
victim, then drops like a stone, seizes it in its talons, and
flies back to its perch to feast. It is amusing to watch it
handle a grasshopper, very much as a squirrel might eat a
nut if he had but two legs. Or, becoming dissatisfied with
its hunting grounds, it will fly off over the fields gracefully,
swiftly, now pausing on quivering wings to reconnoitre, now

186 / BIRDS

onagain, past the thickets on the outskirts of woods, through
the orchard and about the farm, suddenly arresting flight
to pounce on its tiny prey. Its flight is not protracted nor
soaring. Never so hurried, so swift, or so fierce as other
small hawks, it is none the less active, and its charming,
hovering posture gives its flight a special grace. Kill-ee-
kill-ee-kill-ee it shrilly calls as it flies above the grass.
Every farmer’s boy knows the voice of the killy hawk
which is not a true hawk but a faleon. Less shy of men
than others of its tribe, showing the familiarity of a robin
toward us, one frequently sees several little hunters on the
same acre, especially around the bird roosts in the spring
and autumn migrations. The sparrow-hawk would be a
universal favorite were it not for its rascality in devouring
little birds. So long as there is a grasshopper or a meadow
mouse to eat, it will let feathered prey alone; but these fail-
ing, it is a past master in dropping like a thunderbalt
upon the tree sparrows, juncos, thrushes, and other
small birds found near the ground in thickets and wood-
land borders. It does not touch little chickens, however.
Of the three hundred and twenty stomachs examined
for the Department of Agriculture, not one contained a
chick; but eighty-nine contained mice and two hundred
and. fifteen contained grasshoppers and other large
insects. _

Unlike other birds of prey the sparrow-hawk builds no
nest, but lays its eggs in the hollows of trees, the crevices
of rocks, or in the outbuildings of a farm; but a deserted
woodpecker’s hole is its ideal home. In different parts of
the country this beautifully colored little hunter is known
as the rusty-crowned falcon, the kestrel, the killy hawk, and
the mouse hawk.

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 187

The Bald Eagle and the Golden Eagle

Length—Male 30 to 33 inches; female 35 to 40 inches.

Male and Female—Head, neck, and tail white; after third
year rest of plumage dusky brown, the feathers paler on
edges; bill and feet yellow; legs bare of feathers. Im-
mature birds are almost black the first year (“black
eagles”’); the bases of feathers white; bill black. Second
year they are “gray eagles”’ and are then actually larger
than adults. The third year, they come into possession
of “bald” heads and white tails.

Range—North America, nesting throughout range.

Season—Permanent resident.

Emblem of the republic, standing for freedom to enjoy
life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, it must be
owned that our national bird is a piratical parasite when-
ever he gets the chance. With every provision of nature
for noble deeds: keenest sight, superb strength, hardihood,
fully developed wings, it is seldom that the American eagle
obtains a bite to eat in a legitimate way, but almost in-
variably by stratagem and plunder. Near the sea and
other large bodies of water he sits in majesty upon a cliff,
or on the naked limb of some tree commanding a wide
view, and watches the osprey—a conspicuous sufferer—
and other water fowl course patiently over the waves up
and down the coast for a fish. Instantly one is caught,
down falls the eagle like Jove’s thunderbolt from Mount
Olympus, and as escape from so overpowering a foe is im-
possible, the successful fisher quickly drops its prey, while
the eagle, dexterously catching it before it touches the
water, makes off to his eyrie among the clouds to enjoy it at

188 BIRDS

leisure. Dead fish cast up on the beach, carrion, sea and
shore birds are devoured by this rapacious feeder. Ducks,
geese, gulls, and notably coots, that he condescends to
catch himself, are favorite morsels when fish fail. It is
said wounded ducks suit this unsportsmanlike hunter best.
These are picked clean of feathers before the flesh is torn
from their bones. In the interior young domestic animals
are carried off, but scientists raise their eyebrows at tales of
children being borne away by eagles.

When the nesting season approaches, which in the South
begins in February and at the far North in May, the eagles
may be seen hunting in couples and soaring in great spirals
with majestic calm at a dizzy height. As they swoop
earthward, the tops of the trees over which they pass sway
in the current of air created by the feathered monoplanes.
These birds, like most of their class, remain mated through-
out their long life, but often quarrel out of the mating
season when one encroaches upon the proscribed territory
where the other is hunting. Now they are especially
noisy: cac-cac-cac screams the male, a sound too like a
maniac’s laugh to be pleasant. The cry of the female is
more harsh and broken, sufficiently different for one
well up in field practice to tell the sex of the bird by its
voice.

A tall pine tree near water is, of all nesting sites, the
favorite; next to that a rocky ledge of some bold, inacces-
sible cliff; but whatever site may be chosen, that forever
remains home, a shelter at all seasons, the dearest spot on
earth. An immense accumulation of sticks, sod, weeds,
corn stalks, hay, pine tops, moss, and other coarse ma-
terials make a flat structure four or five feet in breadth
and sometimes of even greater height after a succession of

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 189

annual repairs. While the two or three large, rough, dull-
white eggs are being incubated by both mates, and espe-
cially after the young appear, these eagles, unlike the golden
species, become truly magnificent in the fierce defence of
their treasures; yet a rooster is easily a match for the
cowardly eagle at other times. Immense quantities of
food must be carried to the helpless young for the three or
four months while they remain in the nest, and for weeks
after they learn to fly. Immature birds reverse nature’s
order and are larger than adults, and their plumage under-
goes three changes before they appear at the close of the
third year in white heads and tails. They may live a
century. In whatever phase of plumage, one may know
our national bird by its unfeathered legs. It is safe to say
any eagle seen in the eastern United States is the bald-
head, which name, of course, does not indicate that the
bird is actually bald like the vultures, but simply hooded
with white feathers.

In the mountainous regions of the western United
States, it is the dark, feathered-legged golden eagle with a
yellow nape that has furnished the Indians with quills for
their warbonnets and much folk lore. And it is of the
European golden eagle that Tennyson wrote the lines set
to wonderfully descriptive music by McDowell, but
equally applicable to our own great bird:

“He clasps the crag with hooked hands;
Close to the sun, in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls:
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.” .

190 BIRDS

The Red-shouldered Hawk

Length—Male 18 to 20 inches; female 20 to 22 inches.

Male and Female—Rich dark reddish brown above, the
feathers more or less edged with rusty, buff, and whitish;
lesser wing coverts rusty red, forming a conspicuous
patch on shoulders; four outer feathers of wings notched
and all barred with black and white; tail dark with
white bars; under parts rusty or buff, the throat streaked
with blackish, elsewhere irregularly barred with white.
Immature birds plain dark brown above, the wing patch
sometimes indicated, sometimes not; head, neck, and
under parts pale buff, fully streaked with dark brown;
wing and tail quills crossed with many light and dark
bars.

Range—Eastern North America from Manitoba and Nova
Scotia to the Gulf states and Mexico, westward to Texas
and the Great Plains; nests throughout its range.

Season—Permanent resident.

Let any one say “Hawk”? to the average farmer and he
looks for his gun. For many years it was supposed that
every member of the hawk family was a villain and fair
game, but the white searchlight of science shows us that
most of the tribe are the farmers’ allies, which, with the
owls, share the task of keeping in check the mice, moles,
gophers, snakes, and the larger insect pests. Nature
keeps her vast domain patrolled by these vigilant watch-
ers by day and by night. Guns may well be turned on
those blood-thirsty fiends in feathers, Cooper’s hawk, the
sharp-shinned hawk, and the goshawk, that not only eat our

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 191

poultry, but every song bird they can catch; the law of the
survival of the fittest might well be enforced with lead in
their case. But do let us protect our friends, the more
heavily built and slow-flying hawks with the red tails and
red shoulders, among other allies in our ceaseless war
against farm vermin!

In the court of last appeal to which all our hawks are
brought—those scientific men in the Department of
Agriculture, who examine the contents of birds’ stomachs
to learn just what food is taken in different parts of the
country and at different seasons of the year—the two so-
called “hen hawks”’ were proved to be rare offenders, and
great helpers. Two hundred and twenty stomachs of
red-shouldered hawks were examined, and only three con-
tained remains of poultry, while one hundred and two con-
tained mice; ninety-two, insects; forty, moles and other
small mammals; fifty-nine, frogs and snakes, and so on.
The percentage of poultry eaten is so small that it might be
reduced to nothing if the farmers would keep their chickens
in yards instead of letting them roam to pick up a living in
the fields, where the temptation to snatch up one must be
overwhelming to a hungry hawk. Fortunately these two
beneficent “hen hawks’’ are still common, in spite of our
ignorant persecution of them for two hundred years or
more.

Toward the end of summer, especially in September,
when nursery duties have ended for the year and the
hawks are carefree, you may see them sailing in wide
spirals, delighting in the cooler stratum of air high over-
head. Balancing on wide, outstretched wings, floating
serenely with no apparent effort, they enjoy aeroplaning
for the sport’s sake.

192 BIRDS

Sometimes they rise out of sight. Kee you, kee you,
they scream as they sail. Does the teasing blue jay imi-
tate the call for the fun of frightening little birds?

But the red-shouldered hawk is not on pleasure bent
much of thetime. Perching is its specialty, and on an out-
stretched limb, or other point of vantage, it sits erect and
dignified, its far-seeing eyes alone in motion trying to
sight its quarry—a mouse creeping through the meadow, a
mole leaving its tunnel, a chipmunk running along a stone
wall, a frog leaping into the swamp, a gopher or young rab-
bit frisking around the edges of the wood—when, spying
one, “like a thunderbolt it falls.”

The Red-tailed Hawk

This larger relative of the red-shouldered hawk, more
common in the East, shares with it the hatred of all but the
most enlightened farmers. Before condemning either of
these useful allies, every one should read the report of Dr.
Fisher, published by the Government, and to be had for
the asking. This expert judge tells of a pair of red-tailed
hawks that reared their young for two successive seasons
in a birch tree in some swampy woods, about fifty rods
from a poultry farm, where they might have helped them-
selves to eight hundred chickens and half as many ducks;
yet they were never known to touch one. Occasionally, in
winter especially, when other food is scarce, a red-tail will
steal a chicken—probably a maimed or sickly one that
cannot get out of the way—or drop on a bob-white; but
ninety per cent. of its food consists of injurious mammals
and insects.

Both of these slandered “hen hawks” prefer to live in

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 193

low, wet, wooded places with open meadows for hunting
grounds near by.

The female red-tail measures nearly two feet in length—
for “‘the female of the species” is always larger than the
male hawk, just as the squaws in some Indian tribes are
larger than the braves. It is said that hawks remain
mated for life; so do eagles and owls, for in their family
life, at least, the birds of prey are remarkably devoted.

Cooper’s Hawk and the Sharp-shinned Hawk

Length—Male 15.5 inches; female 19 inches.

Male, Female, and Young—To be distinguished from the
sharp-shinned species only by their larger size, darker,
blackish crowns, and rounded, instead of square,
tails.

Range—Temperate North America, nesting throughout
its United States range; some birds wintering in Mexico
and the Southern states.

Season—Permanent resident except at northern limits of
range, where it is a summer or transient visitor.

Here is no ally of the farmer, but his foe, the most bold of
all his robbers, a bloodthirsty villain thatlives by plundering
poultry yards, and tearing the warm flesh from the breasts
of game and song birds, one of the few members of his
generally useful tribe that deserves the punishment
ignorantly meted out to his innocent relatives. Un-
happily, it is perhaps the most common hawk in the greater
part of the United States, and therefore does more harm
than all the others. It is mentioned as a bird worth know-

194 BIRDS

ing only because every one should be able to distinguish
foe from friend.

Instead of perching on lookouts, as the red-tailed and
red-shouldered hawks do, Cooper’s hawk, the big blue
darter, and the smaller sharp-shinned hawk or little blue
darter dash after their victims on the wing, chasing them
across open stretches where such swift, dexterous, dodging
flyers are sure to overtake them. Or they will flash out of
a clear sky like feathered lightning and boldly strike a
chicken, though it be pecking corn near a farmer’s feet.
These two marauders and the big slate-colored goshawk,
also called the blue hen hawk, stab their cruel talons
through the vitals of more valuable poultry, song and
game birds, than any one would care to read about.
These three villains too often escape the charge of shot
they so richly deserve.

The female Cooper’s hawk is about nineteen inches long
and her mate a finger-length smaller, but not nearly so
small as the little blue darter, the sharp-shinned hawk, only
about a foot in length, but which it very closely resembles
in plumage and villainy. Both species have slaty gray
upper parts with deep bars across their wings and ashy
gray tails. The latter differ in outline, however, Cooper’s
hawk having a rounded tail with whitish tip, and the sharp-
shinned “pigeon hawk” a square tail. In maturity
Cooper’s hawk wears a blackish crown. Both species have
white throats with dark streaks.

Let the guns be turned toward these bloodthirsty, auda-
cious miscreants, and away from the red-tailed and red-
shouldered species, beneficient, majestic kings of the air!
Longfellow, in “The Birds of Killingworth,” among the
“Tales of a Wayside Inn,” has written a defence of the

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 195

hawks, among other birds, that the Audubon societies
might well use as a tract.

The Marsh Hawk

Length—Male 19 inches; female 22 inches.

Male—Upper parts gray or bluish ash, washed with brown-
ish; upper tail coverts pure white; silver gray tail
feathers with five or six dusky bars, the outer primaries
darkest; upper breast pearl gray shading into white
underneath, where the plumage is sparsely spotted
with rufous.

Female and Young—Upper parts dark amber; the head and
neck streaked, other parts margined or spotted with
reddish brown; upper tail coverts white; middle tail
feathers barred with gray and black, others barred with
pale yellow and black. Under parts rusty buff, widely
streaked on breast and more narrowly underneath with
dusky. The younger the bird the heavier its blackish
and rufous coloration, many phases of plumage being
shown before emerging into the gray and white adult
males.

Range—North America in general; nests throughout
range; winters in southern half of it.

Season—Summer resident at northern half of range.

Close along the ground skims the marsh hawk, since
field mice and other small mammals, frogs, and the larger
insects that hide among the grass are what it is ever seek-
ing as it swerves this way and that, turns, goes over its
course, “‘quartering”’ the ground like a well-trained dog on

196 BIRDS

the scent of a hare—the peculiarity of saw-toothed flight
that has earned it the hare-hound or harrier’s name. A
few easy strokes in succession, then a graceful sail on
motionless wings, make its flight appear leisurely, even
slow and spiritless, as compared with the impetuous dash
of a hawk that pursues feathered game; hence this is
counted an “‘ignoble” hawk in the scornful eyes of fal-
coners. Open stretches of country, wide fields, salt and
fresh water marshes, ponds, and the banks of small
streams, whose sides are not thickly wooded, since trees
simply impede this low flier’s progress, are its favorite
hunting grounds; and it will sometimes alight on a low
stump, or in the grass itself, for it is a low percher, too. Be-
cause its quarry is humble, and farmers, on the whole, ap-
preciate its service in destroying meadow mice, crickets,
grasshoppers, and other pests, this bird suffers compara-
tively little persecution, and still remains one of the most
widely distributed and common of its tribe. It is some-
times known as the harrier, the mouse hawk, or the blue
hawk.

Turkey Vulture or Buzzard

Length—30 inches; wing-spread about 6 feet.

Male and Female—Blackish brown; wing coverts and lin-
ings grayish; head and neck naked and red, from livid
crimson to pale cinnamon, and usually with white
specks; base of bill red, and end dead white; feet flesh
colored. Head of female covered with grayish brown,
fur-like feathers. Young darker than adults; bill and
skin of head dark and the latter downy. Nestlings of
yellowish white.

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 197

Range—Temperate North America, from Atlantic to
Pacific, rarely so far north as British Columbia; south-
ward to Patagonia and Falkland Islands. Casual in
New England.

Season—Permanent resident, except at extreme northern
limit of range.

Floating high in air, with never a perceptible movement
of its widespread wings, as it circles with majestic, unim-
passioned grace in a great spiral, this common buzzard of
our Southern states suggests by its flight the very poetry of
motion, while its terrestrial habits of scavenger are surely.
the very prose of existence. In the air the bird is unsur-
passed for grace, as, rising with the wind, with only the
slightest motion of its great, flexible, upturned wings, it
sails around and around, for hours at a time, at a height of
two or three hundred feet; then volplaning in a long sweep,
rises again with the same calm, effortless soaring that often
carries it beyond our sight through the thin, summer
clouds. Usually one may see a dozen great birds amusing
themselves by wheeling through space in pursuit of pleas-
ure, and abandoning themselves to the amusement with
tireless ecstasy. Is it not probable that so much exercise
is taken to help digest the enormous amount of carrion
bolted?

Other birds have utilitarian motives for keeping in the
air; several of the hawks, for example, do indeed sail about
in a similar graceful spiral flight, notably the red-tailed
species, but a sudden swoop or dive proves that its slow
gyrations were made with an eye directly fastened on a
dinner. The crow soars to fight the hawk; the kingbird
dashes upward to pursue the crow that carries off its young;

198 BIRDS

but, amidst the quarrels and cruelties of other birds, the tur-
key buzzard sails serenely on its way, molested by none,
since it attacks none, and makes no enemies, feeding as it
does, for the most part, on carrion that none grudgeit. The
youngest chickens in the barnyard show no alarm when a
turkey buzzard alights in their midst. They know that no
more harmless creature exists. It is the most common bird
in the South, being protected there by law in consideration
of its services as scavenger, whereas many tuneful song birds
that destroy innumerable insect pests for the farmer are
wantonly killed. Every field has its buzzards soaring
overhead and casting their shadows, like clouds, on the
grain below. Depending on their services, the farmers
allow the dead horse, or pig, or chicken to lie where it
drops, for the vultures to peck at until the bones are as
clean as if purified by an antiseptic. Fresh meat has no
attractions for them; their preference is for flesh sufficiently
foetid to aid their sight in searching for food, and on such
they will gorge until often unable to rise from the ground.
When disturbed in the act of overhauling a rubbish heap in
the environs of the city, for the bits of garbage that no goat
would touch, they express displeasure at a greedy rival by
blowing through the nose, making a low, hissing sound or
grunt, the only noise they ever utter, and by lifting their
wings in a threatening attitude. With both beak and
claws capable of inflicting painful injury, the buzzard re-
sorts to the loathsome trick of disgorging the foul contents
of its stomach on an intruder. This automatic perfor-
mance is practised even by the youngest fledglings when
disturbed in the nest. It certainly is'a most effective pro-
tection.

The turkey buzzard shows a decided preference for warm

NIGHT AND DAY HUNTERS 199

latitudes, never nesting farther north than New Jersey on
the Atlantic Coast, though, strangely enough, the black
vulture, with a more southerly range, has also penetrated
into the interior as far as British Columbia. Lewis and
Clarke met the buzzard about the falls of the Oregon, and
it is still not uncommon on the Pacific Slope. Neverthe.
less, it is about the shambles of towns in the West Indies
and other hot countries that the black buzzard or carrion
crow finds life the pleasantest. It has the tropical vice of
laziness, so closely allied to cowardliness, and lives where
thereis the least possible necessity for exercising thestronger
virtues. Our soldiers in the war with Spain tell of the final
touch of horror given to the Cuban battlefields where their
wounded and dead comrades fell, by the gruesome black
vultures that often were the first to detect a corpse lying
unseen among the tall grass.

As night approaches, one buzzard after another flies to-
ward favorite perches in the trees, preferably dead ones,
and settles, with much flapping of wings, on the middle
branches; then stretching its body and walking along the
roost like a turkey, until it arrives at the chosen spot, it
hisses or grunts through its nostrils at the next arrival,
whose additional weight frequently snaps the dead branch
and compels a number of the great birds to repeat the pro-
longed process of settling to sleep. But, very frequently,
buzzards perch like dark spectres on the chimneys of
houses, at night, especially in winter, in order to warm their
sensitive bodies by the rising smoke, and, after a rain, they
often spread their wings over the flues to dry their water-
soaked feathers. This spread-eagle attitude is also taken,
anywhere the bird happens to be, when the sun comes out
after a drenching shower.

200 BIRDS

Without exerting themselves to form a nest, the buz-
zards seek out a secluded swamp, palmetto “scrub,”
sycamore grove, or steep and sunny hillside, and deposit
from one to three eggs, usually two, in the cavity of a
stump, or lay them directly on the ground, under a bush, or
on a rock—anywhere, in fact, that necessity urges. Rot-
ten wood is a favorite receptacle, but the angular bricks of
ruined chimneys are not disdained. -As a colony of buz-
zards, when nesting, indulges its offensive defensive action
most relentlessly, few, except scientists, care to make a
close study of the birds’ nesting habits.

CHAPTER XVII

MOURNER, MARTYR, WHISTLER, AND
DRUMMER

Mourninc Dove—Passencer PicEon—Bos-wHItTE—
Rurrep GROUSE

The Mourning Dove

Length—12 to 13 inches.

Male—Grayish brown or fawn color above, varying to
bluish gray. Crown and upper part of head greenish
blue, with green and golden metallic reflections on sideg
of neck. A black spot under each ear. Forehead and
breast reddish buff; lighter underneath. Two middle
tail feathers longest; all others banded with black and
tipped with ashy white. Wing coverts sparsely spotted
with black. Flanks and underneath the wings bluish.

Female—Duller and without iridescent reflections on neck.

Range—North America, from Quebec to Panama, and
westward to Arizona. Most common in temperate
climate, cast of Rocky Mountains.

Season—March to November. Common summer regi-
dent; not migratory south of Virginia.

No sympathy need be wasted on this incessant love-
maker that slowly sings coo-o-0, ah-coo-0-0-000-0-0-000-0-0,
201

202 BIRDS

in a sweetly sad voice. Really he is no more melancholy
than the plaintive pewee but, on the contrary, is so happy in
his love that his devotion has passed into a proverb. Never-
theless, the song sounds more like a dirge than a rapture.
While his mate lives, there is no more contented bird.

Dove lovers are quite self-sufficient. Their larger
cousins, the wild pigeons, that once were so abundant, de-
pended on friends for much of their happiness and lived in
enormous flocks. Now only a few pairs survive in this land
of liberty to refute the adage “In union there is strength.”
Because millions of pigeons slept in favorite roosts many
miles in extent, they were all too easily netted, and it did
not take greedy men long to turn the last flock into cash.
Happily, doves preserved their race by scattering in
couples over a wide area—from Panama, in winter, as far
north as Ontario in warm weather. Not until nursery
duties, which begin early in the spring, are over late in
summer, do they give up their shy, unsocial habits to enjoy
the company of a few friends. When they rise on whist-
ling wings from tree-bordered fields, where they have been
feeding on seeds and grain, not a gun is fired; no one cares
to eat them.

Only the cuckoo of our common birds builds so flimsy a
nest as the dove’s adored darling. She is a slack, in-
competent housekeeper, but evidently her lover is blind to
every fault. What must the expert phoebe think of such a
poorly made, untidy cradle, or that bustling, energetic
housewife, Jenny Wren, or the tiniest of clever archi-
tects, the humming-bird? It is a wonder that the dove’s
two white eggs do not fall through the rickety, rimless, un-
lined lattice. How scarred and bruised the tender, naked
bodies of the twins must be by the sticks! Like pigeons,

MARTYR 203

humming-birds, flickers, and some other feathered parents,
doves feed their fledglings by pumping partly digested food
—“‘pigeon’s milk””—from their own crops into theirs.

When they leave the open woodlands to take a dust
bath in the road, or to walk about and collect gravel for
their interior grinding machines, or to get a drink of water
before going to sleep, you may have a good look at them.
As they walk, they bob their heads in a funny manner of
their own. They are bluish, fawn-colored birds about a
foot long. The male has some exquisite metallic colors on
his neck, otherwise he resembles his best beloved. Beauti-
ful birds these, in spite of their quiet Quaker clothes.

In the Southern states the little ground doves, the small-
est of the columbine kin, may be seen by every roadside.

The Passenger Pigeon

Length—16 to 25 inches.

Male—Upper parts bluish slate shaded with olive gray on
back and shoulders, and with metallic violet, gold, and
greenish reflections on back and sides of head; the wing
coverts with velvety black spots; throat bluish slate,
quickly shading into a rich reddish buff on breast, and
paling into white underneath; two middle tail feathers
blackish; others fading from pearl to white. Eyes red,
like the feet; bill black.

Female—Similar, but upper parts washed with more olive
brown; less iridescence; breast pale grayish brown fading
to white underneath.

Range—Eastern North America, nesting chiefly north of or
along the northern borders of United States as far west
as the Dakotas and Manitoba, and north to Hudsons Bay.

204 BIRDS

Season—Chiefly a transient visitor in the United States of
late years.

The wild pigeon no longer survives to refute the adage,
“In union there is strength.” No birds have shown
greater gregariousness, the flocks once numbering not
hundreds nor thousands but millions of birds; Wilson in
1808 mentioning a flock seen by him near Frankfort, Ken-
tucky, which he conservatively estimated at more than two
billion, and Audubon told of flights so dense that they
darkened the sky, and streamed across it like mighty
rivers. So late as our Centennial year one nesting ground
in Michigan extended over an area twenty-eight miles in
length by three or four in width. The modern mind,
accustomed to deal only with pitiful remnants of feathered
races, can scarcely grasp the vast numbers that once made
our land the sportsman’s paradise. Union for once has
been fatal. Unlimited netting, even during the entire
nesting season, has resulted in sending more than one million
pigeons to market from a single roost in one year, leaving
perhaps as many more wounded birds and starving, help-
less, naked squabs behind, until the poultry stalls became
so glutted with pigeons that the low price per barrel
scarcely paid for their transportation, and they were fed
to the hogs. This abominable practice of netting pigeons,
discontinued only because there are no flocks left to cap-
ture, drove the birds either to nest north of the United
States, or, when within its borders, to change their habits
and live in couples chiefly. Captain Bendire, than whom
no writer ever expressed an opinion out of fuller knowledge,
said in 1892: “The extermination of the passenger pigeon

MARTYR 205

has progressed so rapidly during the last twenty years that
it looks now as if their (sic) total extermination might be
accomplished within the present century.” This proph-
ecy has been only too well fulfilled. The passenger pigeon
is to-day as extinct as the great auk.

One or at most two white eggs, laid on a rickety plat-
form of sticks in a tree, where they were visible from below,
would scarcely account for the myriads of pigeons once
seen, were not frequent nestings common throughout the
summer; and it is said the birds laid again on their return
South. Both of the devoted mates took regular turns at
incubating, the female between two o’clock in the after-
noon and nine or ten the next morning, daily, leaving the
male only four or five hours sitting, according to Mr.
William Brewster. “The males feed twice each day,” he
says, “namely, from daylight to about eight a. m., and
again late in the afternoon. The females feed only in the
forenoon. The change is made with great regularity as to

‘time, all the males being on the nest by ten o’clock a. m.
. . . The sitting bird does not leave the nest until the
bill of its incoming mate nearly touches its tail, the former
slipping off as the latter takes its place. . . . Five
weeks are consumed by asingle nesting. . . . Usually
the male pushes the young off the nest by force. The
latter struggles and squeals precisely like a tame squab,
but is finally crowded out along the branch, and after
further feeble resistance flutters down to the ground.
Three or four days elapse before it is able to fly well.
Upon leaving the nest it is often fatter and heavier than
the old birds; but it quickly becomes thinner and lighter,
despite the enormous quantity of food it consumes.”
Before leaving the nest it was nourished with food brought

206 BIRDS

up from the parents’ crops, where, mixed with a pecul-
iar whitish fluid, it passed among the credulous as
“pigeon’s milk.” Is not this the nearest approach among
birds to the mammals’ method of feeding their young?
Patterns of all domestic virtues, proverbially loving,
gentle birds, anatomists tell us their blandness was due
not to the cultivation of their moral nature, but to the
absence of the gall-bladder!

Bob-white or Quail

Length—9.5 to 10.5 inches.

Male and Female—Upper parts chestnut brown flecked
with black, white, and tawny; rump grayish brown,
finely mottled, and with a few streaks of blackish; tail
ashy, the inner feathers mottled with buff; front of
crown, a line from bill beneath the eye, and band on
upper breast, black; forehead and stripe over the eye,
extending down the side of the neck, white; breast and
under parts white or buff, crossed with irregular narrow
black lines; feathers on sides and flanks chestnut, with
white edges barred with black. The female has fore-
head, line over the eye, and throat, buff, and little or no
black on upper breast. Summer birds have blacker
crowns and paler buff markings.

Range—‘‘Eastern United States and southern Ontario,
from southern Maine to the South Atlantic and Gulf
states; west to central South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas,
Oklahoma, and eastern Texas. Of late years has grad-
ually extended its range westward along lines of railroad
and settlements; also introduced at various points in

WHISTLER 207

Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Idaho, California, Oregon,
and Washington. Breeds throughout its range.”
Season—Permanent resident.

What a cheerful contrast is bob-white’s clear, staccato
whistle to the drawling coo of the amorous dove! Char-
acter is as often expressed in a bird’s voice as in a
human’s. From their voices alone you might guess that
the dove and the quail are no relation. They do not be-
long even to the same order, bob-white being a scratching
bird and having the ruffed grouse and barnyard chicken for
his kin. Pheasants and turkeys are distantly related. In
the South people call him a partridge; in New England it is
the ruffed grouse that is known by that name; therefore, to
save confusion, why not always give bob-white the name
by which he calls himself? The chickadee, phoebe,
peewee, towhee, whippoorwill, bobolink, and kill-deer
who tell their names less plainly than he, save every one
who tries to know them much trouble. Bob-white! Ah,

_ bob-white / rings from some plump little feathered gallant
on the outskirts of almost any farm during the long nesting
season.

A slight depression in some dry, grassy field or a hole at
the foot of an old stump or weed-hedged wall will be lined
with leaves and grasses by both mates in May to receive
from ten to eighteen brilliant white eggs that are packed in,
pointed end downward, to economize space. If an egg
were removed, it would be difficult indeed to rearrange the
clutch with such economy. Would it not be cruel to
touch a nest which the outraged owners would at once
desert?

208 BIRDS

Just as little chickens follow the old hen about, so downy
bob-whites run after both their parents and learn which
seeds, grain, insects, and berries they may safely eat.
Man, with his gun and dog and mowing machines, is their
worst enemy, of course; then come the sly fox and sneak-
ing weasel that spring upon them from ambush, and the
hawk that drops upon them like a thunderbolt. Birds
have enemies above, below, and on every side. Is it any
wonder that they are timid and shy? A note of alarm
summons the chicks, half-running, half-flying, to huddle
close to their mother or to take shelter beneath her short
wings. When she is busy sitting on a second or third
clutch of eggs, it is Bob himself, a pattern of all the do-
mestic virtues, who takes full charge of the family. When
the last chicks are ready to join their older brothers and
sisters, the bevy may contain three orfourdozenbirds. At
bedtime they squat in a circle on the ground, tails toward
the centre of the ring, heads pointing outward to detect an
enemy coming from any direction. As if their vigilance
were not enough, Bob usually remains outside the ring to
act as sentinel. At the sign of danger the bunch of birds
will rise with loud whirring of the wings, as suddenly as a
bomb might burst.

The whtr-r-r-r-r-r-r, indicates something of the speed at
which the bob-whites rush through the air. Rising at a
considerable angle from the ground, on stiff, set, short
wings, the birds, heading for a wooded cover, are off in a
strung-out line that only the tyro imagines makes an easy
‘target. Suddenly dropping all at once and not far from
each other, squatting close, in the confidence inspired by the
perfect mimicry of their plumage with their surroundings,
each bird must be almost trodden upon before it will rise to

WHISTLER 209

wing. Very rarely they take refuge in trees. It has been
said a bob-white can retain its odor voluntarily, since the
best of pointers often fails to find it even when within a few
feet. When lying close, the wings are pressed against the
side, every feather clings tightly with a tension produced
by fear. The result is that by flying upward, rather than
running and giving the scent to the dogs, and by com-
pressing its feathers on dropping to the ground again, brave
little bob-white often gives the sportsman a lively chase
for his game. After much shooting, birds become “edu-
cated.” Wonderfully clever they are in matching the
sportsman’s tricks with better ones. They school the
wing shots finely until the crack marksman confesses his
chagrin. The best-trained dog may bushwhack an entire
slope, where they are known to be scattered, without flush-
ing one; for vainly does the dog draw now. His usefulness
was greatest in standing a covey before the reports from the
gun gave fair warning that no one-sided sport had begun.
Who that knows its charm, to say nothing of its eco-
nomic value, cares to eat this friendly little song bird that
stays about the farm with his family through the coldest
winter to pick up the buckwheat, cheap raisins, and sweep-
ings from the hay loft that keep him as neighborly as a
robin? Every farmer who shoots or allows others to de-
stroy this useful ally in his eternal war against weeds and
insect pests, impoverishes himself more than he is aware.

Ruffed Grouse

Length—16 to 18 inches.
Male and Female—Upper parts chestnut varied with gray-
ish and yellowish brown, white, and black; head slightly

210 BIRDS

crested; yellow line over eye; sides of neck of male with
large tufts of glossy greenish black feathers tipped with
light brown, much restricted or wanting and dull in
female; long tail, which may be spread fan-like, yellow-
ish brown or gray or rusty, beautifully and finely barred
with irregular bands half buff, half black; a broad sub-
terminal band of black between gray bands; throat and
breast buff, the former unmarked; underneath whitish,
all barred with brown, strongly on sides, less distinctly
on breast and below; legs feathered.

Range—Eastern United States and southern Canada west
to Minnesota, south to northern Georgia, Mississippi,
and Arkansas.

Season—Permanent but roving resident.

(See plates, pages 210-211.)

Neither a “partridge” nor a “pheasant,” it is by the
former name that this superb game bird is best known to
the New Englanders, and by the latter that it is commonly
called in the Middle and Southern states; but this most
typical grouse appears in literature and the market stalls
alike as a “partridge,” a misnomer (shared by the bob-
white) which strictly belongs to a race of European birds
of which we have no counterparts on this side of the
Atlantic.

Partial to hill country interspersed with cultivated
meadows and dingles, or to mountains, rocky, inaccessible, -
thickly timbered, and well watered with bush-grown%,
streams, it is only rarely, and then chiefly in autumn, that
coveys leave high altitudes to feed along the edges of milder
valleys. The dainties preferred include crickets, grass-
hoppers, caterpillars, beechnuts, chestnuts, acorns of the

National Association of Audubon Societies See page 209
RUFFED GROUSE

SORA

DRUMMER 211

chestnut oak and the white oak, strawberries, blueberries,
raspberries, elderberries, wintergreen and partridge berries
with their foliage, cranberries, the bright fruit of the black
alder and dogwood, sumach berries (including the poison-
ous varieties, which do the grouse no injury), wild grapes,
grain dropped in the stubble of harvested fields, the foliage
of many plants, and the leaf buds of numerous shrubs and
trees—a varied menu, indeed, responsible alike for the bird’s
luscious, tender flesh and its roving disposition.

Bob-white and ruffed grouse are the fife and drum corps
of the woods. That some birds are wonderful musicians
everybody knows, and only the bird orchestra contains a
member who can drum without a drum. Even that
famous drummer, the woodpecker, needs a dead, dry,
resonant, hardwood limb to tap on before he can produce
his best effects. How does the grouse beat his deep,
muffled, thump, thump, thumping, rolling tattoo? Some
scientists have staked their reputation on the claim that
they have seen him drum by rapidly striking his wings
against the sides of his body; but other later-day scientists,
who contend that he beats only the air when his wings
vibrate so fast that the sight cannot quite follow them, are
undoubtedly right.

On a fallen log, a stump, a rail fence or a wall, that may
have been used as a drumming stand for many years, the
male grouse will strut with a jerking, dandified gait, puff
out his feathers, ruff his neck frills, raise and spread his
fan-shaped tail like a turkey cock, blow out his cheeks and
neck, then suddenly halt and begin to beat his wings.
After a few slow, measured thumps, the stiff, strong wings
whir faster and faster, until there is only a blur where they

vibrate. This is the grouse’s love song that summons a

212 BIRDS

mate to their trysting place. It serves also as a challenge
toarival. Blood and feathers may soon be strewn around
the ground, for in the spring grouse will fight as fiercely as
game-cocks. Sportsmen in the autumn woods often hear
grouse drumming at the old stand, merely from excess of
vigor and not because they take the slightest interest then
ina mate. After the mating season is over, they have no
more chivalry than barnyard roosters.

Perhaps you know what it is to be suddenly startled by
the loud whirring roar of a big brown grouse that suddenly
hurls itself from the ground near your feet. If it were shot
from the mouth of a cannon it could surprise you no less.
Then it sails away, dodging the trees, and disappears.
Gunners have “educated” the intelligent bird into being,
perhaps, the most wily, difficult game in the woods.

Like the meadow-lark, flicker, sparrows, and other birds
that spend much time on the ground, the bob-white and
ruffed grouse wear brown feathers, streaked and barred, to
harmonize perfectly with their surroundings. “To find
a hen grouse with young is a memorable experience,”’ says
Frank M. Chapman. ‘While the parent is giving us a
lesson in mother love and bird intelligence, her downy
chicks are teaching us facts in protective coloration and
heredity. How the old one limps and flutters! She can
barely drag herself along the ground. But while we are
watching her, what has become of the ten or a dozen little
yellow balls we had almost stepped on? Not a feather do
we see, until, poking about in the leaves, we find one little
chap hiding here and another squatting there, all perfectly
still, and so like the leaves in color as to be nearly in-
visible.”

CHAPTER XVIII
BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES

KiILLDEER—SEMIPALMATED OR RING-NECKED PLOvER—
Least SANDPIPER—SPOTTED SANDPIPER—Woopcock
AND WILSON’s SnipE—SorA AND CLAPPER Ratts—
Coot—GreEat BiurE Heron—LittLe GREEN HERon
—BITTERN

The Killdeer

Length—9.5 to 10.5 inches. About the size of the robin.

Male and Female—Grayish brown washed with olive
above; the forehead, spot behind eyes, throat, a ring
around the neck, a patch on wing, a band across breast,
and underneath, white; front of crown, cheeks, a ring
around neck, and a band across breast, black; lower back
and base of tail, chestnut; inner tail feathers like upper
parts; outer feathers chestnut and white all with sub-
terminal band of black tipped with white. Bill black;
legs light; eyelids red.

Range—Temperate North America to Newfoundland and
Manitoba; nests throughout range; winters usually
south of New England to Bermuda, the West Indies,
Central and South America.

Season—Resident, March to November, or later; most
abundant in spring and autumn migrations.

213

214 BIRDS

If you don’t know the little killdeer plover, it is surely
not his fault, for he is a noisy sentinel, always ready, night
or day, to tell you his name. Kildee, kildee, he calls with
his high voice when alarmed—and he is usually beset by
fears, real or imaginary—but when at peace, his voice is
sweet andlow. Much persecution from gunners has made
the naturally gentle birds of the shore and marshes rather
shy and wild. Most plovers nest in the arctic regions,
where man and his wicked ways are unknown. When the
young birds reach our land of liberty, and receive a wel-
come of hot shot, the survivors learn their first lesson in
shyness. Some killdeer, however, are hatched in the
United States. No sportsman worthy of the name would
waste shot on a bird not larger than a robin; one, moreover,
with musky flesh; yet I have seen scores of killdeer strung
over the backs of gunners in tide-water Virginia. Their
larger cousins, the black-breasted, the piping, the golden
and Wilson’s plovers, who travel from the tundras of the
far North to South America and back again every year,
have now become rare because too much cooked along
their long route. You can usually tell a flock of plovers
in flight by the crescent shape of the rapidly moving
mass.

With a busy company of friends, the killdeer haunts
broad tracts of grassy land, near water, uplands or low-
lands, or marshy meadows beside the sea. Scattered over
a chosen feeding ground, the plovers run about nimbly,
quickly, daintily, nervously, looking for trouble as well as
food. Because worms, which are their favorite supper,
come out of the ground at nightfall, the birds are especially
active then. Grasshoppers, crickets, and other insects
content them during the day.

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 215

Semipalmated or Ring-necked Plover

The killdeer, which is our commonest plover, has a little
cousin scarcely larger than an English sparrow that is a
miniature of himself, except that the semipalmated (half-
webbed) or ring-necked plover has only one dark band
across the upper part of his white breast, while the killdeer
wears two black rings. This dainty little beach bird has
brownish gray upper parts so like the color of wet sand,
that, as he runs along over it, just in advance of the froth-
ing ripples, he is in perfect harmony with his surroundings.
Relying upon that fact for protection, he will squat behind
a tuft of beach grass if you pass too near rather than risk
flight.

When the tide is out, you may see the tiny forms of
these common ring-necks mingled with the ever-friendly
little sandpipers on the exposed sand bars and wide beaches
where all keep up a constant hunt for bits of shell fish, fish
eggs, and sand worms. Birds that have been hiding in the
marshes and sand dunes now trip a light measure over the
exposed sand bars and mud flats, leaving little tracks that
may not be distinguished from those of the sand ox-eye or
semipalmated sandpiper that hunts with them, although
the plover has only three half-webbed toes. The small,
slightly elevated fourth toe of the ox-eye is only faintly evi-
dent at times in its tracks.

Tiny forms chase out after the receding waves, running
in just in advance of the frothing ripples that do not quite
overtake them, although the plovers almost never spring
to wing as sandpipers do when a drenching threatens, but
place all their trust in their fleet legs. With such feet as

216 BIRDS

theirs, they must be able to swim; but who ever sees them
in deep water? They merely ride on an incoming wave
when it overtakes them, and are washed ashore.

General Greely found them nesting in Grinnell Land in
July, the males doing most of the incubating as is custom-
ary in the plover family, whose females certainly have ad-
vanced ideas. Downy little chicks run about as soon after
leaving the egg as they are dry. In August the advance
guard of southbound flocks begin to arrive in the United
States from the Arctic Circle en route for Brazil—quite a
journey in the world to test the fledglings’ wings.

The Least Sandpiper

The least sandpipers, peeps, ox-eyes or stints, as they are
variously called, are only about the size of sparrows—too
small for any self-respecting gunner to bag, therefore they
are still abundant. Their light, dingy-brown and
gray, finely speckled backs are about the color of the
mottled sand they run over so nimbly, and _ their
breasts are as white as the froth of the waves that almost
never touch them. Beach birds become marvellously
quick in reckoning the fraction of a second when they must
run from under the combing wave about to break over
their little heads. Plovers rely on their fleet feet to escape
a wetting. Least sandpipers usually fly upward and on-
ward if a deluge threatens; but they have a similar cousin,
the semipalmated (half-webbed) sandpiper that swims
well when the unexpected water suddenly lifts it off its feet.

These busy, cheerful, sprightly little peepers are always
ready to welcome to their flocks other birds—ring-necked
plovers, turnstones, snipe, and phalaropes. If by no other

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 217

sign, you may distinguish sandpipers by their constant call,
pesp-peep.

Across the narrow beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit,
The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit—
One little sandpiper and I.

Almost every one is more familiar with Celia Thaxter’s
poem about the little sandpiper than with the bird itself.
But if you have the good fortune to be at the seashore in
the late summer, when flocks of the friendly mites come to
visit us from the arctic regions on their way south, you can
scarcely fail to become acquainted with the companion of
Mrs. Thaxter’s lonely walks along the beach at the Isles of
Shoals where her father kept the lighthouse.

The Spotted Sandpiper

Length—7.5 inches. A trifle larger than the English spar-
row.

Male and Female—Upper parts an olive ashen color,
spotted and streaked with black; line over eye and under
parts white, the latter plentifully spotted with round
black dots large and small, but larger and closer on the
male than on the female, the smallest marks on throat;
inner tail feathers like the back, the outer ones with
blackish bars; secondaries and their coverts broadly
tipped with white; some white feathers at bend of wing;
white wing lining with dusky bar; other white feathers

218 BIRDS

concealed in folded wing, but conspicuous in flight.
Winter birds are duller and browner and without bars on
upper parts.

Range—North America to Hudsons Bay, nesting through-
out its range; winters in Southern states and southward
to Brazil.

Season—Summer resident; April to September or October.

Do you know the spotted sandpiper, teeter, tilt-up,
teeter-tail, teeter-snipe, or tip-up, the familiar little spotted
sandpiper of ditches and pools, roadside and woodland
streams, river shores, creeks, swamps, and wet meadows—
of the sea beaches, too, during the migrations? Quite as
frequently it goes to dry uplands, wooded slopes, and
mountains as high as the timber line, as if undecided
whether to be a shore or a land bird, a wader or a songster.
Charming to the eye and ear alike, what possible attraction
can a half dozen of these pathetically small bodies, roasted
and served on a skewer, have to a hungry man when beef-
steak may be obtained? A thrush is larger and scarcely
more tuneful, yet numbers of these little sandpipers are
shot annually.

Some quaint and ridiculous mannerisms, recorded in 3
large list of popular names, make this a particularly inter-
esting bird to watch. Alighting after a short, low flight, it
first stands still, like a willet, to look about; then making a
deep bow to the spectator, you might feel complimented by
the obeisance, did not the elevation of the rear extremity
turned toward you the next minute imply a withering con-
tempt. Bowing first toward you, then from you, the
teeter deliberately sea-saws east, west, north, south.
This absurd performance, frequently and ever solemnly

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 219

indulged in, interrupts many a meal and run along the
beach. A sudden jerking up or jetting of the tail as the
bird walks, gives it a most curious gait, all the more amus-
ing because the bird is so small and evidently so self-
satisfied. One rarely sees more than a pair of these sand-
pipers in a neighborhood which they somehow preémpt,
except at the migrations, when families travel together;
but as two broods are generally raised in a summer, these
family parties are no mean sized flock. Startle a “‘teeter-
snipe” and with a sharp, sweet peet-weet, weet-weet, it flies
off swiftly on a curve, in a steady, low course, but with
none of the erratic zig-zags characteristic of a true snipe’s
motions, and soon alights not far from where it set out. A
fence rail, a tree, or even the roofs of outbuildings on the
farm have been chosen as resting places. The peet-weets
skim above the waving grain inland, their pendent, pointed
wings beating steadily, and follow the same graceful curves
that mark their course above the sea.

In the nesting season, which practically extends all
through the summer, this is a sand “lark” indeed. Soar-
ing upward, singing as he goes, in that angelic manner of
the true lark of England, the male pours out his happiness
in low, sweet peet-weets trilled rapidly and prolonged into a
song—cheerful, even ecstatic notes, without a trace of the
plaintive tone heard at other times. A good deal of music
passes back and forth from these birds awing.

Fluffy little chicks run from the creamy buff shells thickly
spotted and speckled with brown, as soon as hatched.
The nest, or a depression in the ground, lined with dry
grass, that answers every purpose, may be in a meadow or
orchard, but rarely far from water that attracts worms,
snails, and insects for the little family to feed on. This is

220 BIRDS

the one sandpiper that we may confidently expect to meet
throughout the summer.

The Woodcock

Length—10 to 11 inches; female 11 to 12 inches.

Male and Female—Upper parts varied with gray, brown,
black, and buff, an indistinct black line on front of head,
another running from bill to eye; back of head black with
three buff bars. Under parts reddish buff brown.
Eyes large and placed in upper corner of triangular head.
Bill long, straight, stout. Short, thick neck and com-
pact, rounded body; wings arid legs short.

Range—Eastern North America, from the British provinces
to the Gulf, nesting nearly throughout its range;
winters south of Virginia and southern Illinois.

Season—Resident all but the coldest months; a few winter.

The borings of the woodcock in bogs, wet woodlands,
and fields—little groups of clean-cut holes made by the
bird’s bill in the soft earth—give the surest clue to the
presence of this game bird, that has been tracked by sports-
men and pot hunters alike, from Labrador to the Gulf, by
means of these tell-tale marks until the day cannot be far
distant when there will be no woodcock left to shoot.
Since earthworms are the bird’s staple diet, these must be
probed for and felt after through the moist earth. Down
goes the woodcock’s bill, sunk to the nostril; the upper half,
being flexible at the tip, draws the worm forth as one might
raise a string through the neck of a jar with one’s finger.
Curiously, the tip of the upper mandible works quite in-
dependently of the lower one—a fact only recently dis-

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 221

covered. Owing to the position of the eyes, at the back of
the head, food must be felt rather than seen; but, so sensi-
tive is the tip of the bill, and so far out of sight are the
worms, in any case, the eyes serve a better purpose in being
placed where they widen the bird’s vision and so detect an
enemy afar. It is claimed by some that, like the owls,
woodcock see best at night. Worms come to the surface
after dark, which explains this and many other birds’
nocturnal habits.

In the early spring any one who takes an interest in the
woodcock, aside from its flavor, will be repaid for one’s
tramp through the swale, at evening, to see the bird go
through a series of aérial antics and attestations of affec-
tion to his innamorata. Standing with his bill pointing
downward and his body inclined forward, he calls out pink,
pink, as much as to say: “‘Now look, the performance is
about to begin’; then suddenly he springs from the ground,
flies around in circles, his short stiff wings whistling as he
goes higher, higher, faster, faster, and louder and louder,
as he sweeps by overhead in erratic circles, each overlap-
ping the other, until the end of the spiral described must be
fully three hundred feet from the ground. Now, uttering
a sharp whistle, down he comes, pitching, darting, and
finally alighting very near the spot from which he set out.
Pink, pink, he again calls, to make sure his efforts are not
lost upon the object of his affection, and before he can fairly
have recovered his breath, off he goes on another series of
gyrations accompanied by wing music. Or, he may dance
jigs when in the actual presence of the loved one. Cranes,
plovers, owls, and flickers, among others, go through
clownish performances to win their mates, but the wood-
hen remains coy and apparently coldly indifferent to the

222 BIRDS

madness of her lover. He will sometimes stand motion-
less, as if meditating on some new method of winning her,
his head drawn in, his bill pressing against his breast.
Then, with his short tail raised and outstretched like a
grouse’s, and with wings trailing beside him, he will strut
about with a high step—a comical picture of dignity and
importance.

Little time need be taken from the honeymoon to make
anest. This consists of a few dry leaves on the ground in
the woods, usually near a stump, where the eggs are laid,
often before the snow has melted, in April. The mimicry
of plumage which so closely resembles the woodland floor
is remarkable. One can scarcely see a sitting bird, even
when quite near her. A dry place being chosen for the
nesting site, it sometimes becomes necessary to transport
the funny little fluffy, long-billed chicks to muddy hunting
grounds, and the mother has been detected in the act of
flying with one of her brood held between her thighs. But
the chicks are by no means helpless, even from the instant
they leave the shell. It is a pretty sight to see a little
family poking about at twilight for larvae, worms, and
small insects, among the decayed leaves, the fallen logs,
and the ferns and skunk cabbages. Peep, peep, they call,
quite like barnyard chicks.

‘By the first of August the woodcocks, deserting the low,
wet lands, scatter themselves over the country in corn-
fields, grassy meadows, birch-covered hillsides, “alder
runs,” pine forests, and thick, cool, moist undergrowth;
and now they moult. No whistling of wings can be heard
as the birds heavily labor along near the ground, often un-
able to raise their denuded bodies higher. In September,
when the sportsmen make sad havoc in"the flocks, already

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 223

gathering for migration, they are found in the dense thick-
ets of wooded uplands, where a stream flows to keep the
ground soft; and in October, when the birds are in prime
- condition, the spot that contained scores at evening may
hold none by morning. The russet-colored birds mingle
with the russet-colored leaves, and, as they lie close, it takes
a good dog to find them. The woodcocks migrate silently
by night, and an early frost, that stiffens the ground, drives
them off suddenly to softer territory southward. Hence
the element of uncertainty enters into looking for this bird,
that is here to-day and gone to-morrow. When flushed, its
flight appears to be feeble, as, after a few whistles of its
short, stiff wings, and trailing its legs behind it, it quickly
drops into cover again, running a little distance on alight-
ing; but the distances covered in migrations prove it to be
no unskilled flier.
The woodcock could be confused only with Wilson’s
snipe, of similar coloring and habits.

Sora and Clapper Rails

Rails, like coots, are often called mud*hens, and they are
such shy, skulking hiders among the tall marsh grasses that
no novice need hope to know them all; but a few members
of the family that are both abundant and noisy may be

. readily recognized by their voices alone.

All rails prefer to escape from an intruder through the
sedges in well-worn runways rather than trust their short,
rounded wings to bear them beyond danger; and for forc-
ing their way through grassy jungles, their narrow-
breasted, wedge-shaped bodies are perfectly adapted.
Compressed almost to a point in front, but broad and

224 BIRDS

blunt behind where their queer little short-pointed tails
stand up, the rails’ small figures thread their way in and
out of the mazes over the oozy ground with wonderful
rapidity.

Food gathered from the surface of the ground is picked
off with sharp pecks, but all the rails run up the rushes
also, clinging with the help of their hind toes to the swaying
stem within reach of the grain hanging in tassels at the top.
The long front toes, flattened but scarcely lobed, enable
them to tread out a dinner from the mud as well as to
swim across a ditch or inlet. All the rails are good divers.
Rather than expose themselves as a target for the gunner,
they will cling to submerged stalks, with their bills only
above water, and allow a skiff to pass over them, without
stirring.

It is always the sportsman’s hope to flush the rails,
whose strong legs and skulking habits sufficiently protect
them in the sedges, but whose slow, short flight keeps them
within range of the veriest tyro. The ’prentice hand is
tried on rails. Trailing their legs after them, and feebly
fluttering their wings as they rise just above the tops of the
rushes, they soon drop down into them again as if ex-
hausted; yet some of these are the very birds that migrate
from the West Indies to Hudson Bay. Their flight is by
no means so feeble as it appears.

The Sora, or Carolina, Rail

Length—8 to 9.5 inches. A little smaller than a robin.

Male and Female—Above, olive brown varied with black
and gray; front of head, stripe on crown, and line on
throat, black; side of head and breast ashy gray or slate;

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 225

sides of breast spotted with white; flanks barred
slate and white; white underneath. Immature birds
have brown breast, no black on head, and a white
throat.

Range—Temperate North America; more abundant on the
Atlantic than the Pacific Slope. Nests from Kansas,
Illinois, and New York northward to Hudsons Bay;
winters from our Southern states to West Indies and
northern South America.

Season—Common summer resident at the north; winter
_resident south of North Carolina; sometimes in sheltered
marshes farther north.

(See plate, page 211.)

Where flocks of bobolinks (transformed by a heavy
moult into the streaked brown reed birds of the South) con-
gregate to feed upon the wild rice or oats in early autumn,
sportsmen bag the soras by tens of thousands annually,
both of these misnamed “‘ortolans” coming into market in
September and October, by which time the sora’s pitifully
small, thin body has acquired the only fat it ever boasts.
“As thin as a rail” at every other season, however, is a
most significant expression to the cook who plucks a dozen
or more for a dinner party. Yet many people think it isa
fence rail that the adage refers to. Offering the epicure
even a smaller bite than a robin, they serve to add toa
banquet another course of culinary bric-a-brac in lieu of
nourishment.

The sora may be heard wherever wild rice grows along
inland lakes and rivers or in other marshes along the
coast. Its sweetly whistled spring song ker-wee, ker-wee,
and “rolling whinny” give place in autumn to the ’kuk, kuk

226 BIRDS

*k-k-k~’kuk imitated by allege! sportsmen in search
of a mere trifle of flesh that they fill with shot.

THE CLAPPER RAIL

Salt marshes, mangrove swamps, and grassy fields along
the seacoast contain more of these little gray skulkers than
the keenest eye suspects; and were it not for their incessant
chattering, who would ever know they had come up from
the South to spend the summer? At the nesting season
there can be no noisier birds anywhere than these; the
marshes echo with their long, rolling cackle like a mechani-
cal toy, that is taken up and repeated by each member of
the community, until the chorus attracts every gunner to
the place. Immense numbers of the compressed, thin
bodies, that often measure no more than an inch and a
quarter through the breast, find their way to the city
markets from the New Jersey salt meadows, after they
have taken on a little fat in the wild grain fields in autumn.
Yet this is sometimes called the big rail, measuring, as it
does, about a foot in length.

The Coot

Length—14 to 16 inches.

Male and Female—General color slate; very dark on head
and neck, lighter on under parts; edge of wing, tips of
secondaries, and space below tail, white. Bill ivory
white; two brownish spots near tip, the same shade as
the horny plate on front of head a characteristic mark.
Legs and feet pale green, the latter with scalloped lobes..

Range—North America at large, from Greenland and

LOYD LAONS

See page 231

GREEN WERON

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 227

Alaska to the West Indies and Central America; nesting
throughout range, but more rarely on Atlantic coast.

Season—Resident in the South; chiefly a spring and
autumn migrant at the North, April, May; September to
November.

More aquatic than the rails, the coot delights in the
swimming and diving feats of a duck, owing to its lobed
toes. What these toes lack in width is amply made up in
length, the fact that makes the bird so expert in the water
and correspondingly awkward when it runs over the land,
where, however, it spends very little time.

A lake or quiet river surrounded by large marshy tracts
where sluggish streams meander, bringing down into

deeper water wild grain and seeds, the larvae of insects,
fish spawn, snails, worms, and vegetable matter, makes the
ideal home of this duck-like bird. “I come from the
haunts of coot and hern,” the song of Tennyson’s brook,.
calls up a picture of the home that needs no enlarging.
The coot dives for food to great depths, sometimes sinking
duck fashion, and disappearing to parts unknown by a
long swim under water with the help of both wings and
feet. Swimming on the surface, the bird has a funny habit
of bobbing its head in unison with the strokes given in the
stern by its twin screws.

A large amount of gravel seems necessary to help digest
the quantity of grain swallowed, and for this a flock of
coots must sometimes leave the muddy region of the lake.
Rising from the surface, they flutter just above it, patter-
ing along for a distance, their distended feet striking the

water constantly, until sufficient momentum is gained to
\ spring into the air and trust to wing power alone. This

\

228 BIRDS

pattering noise and splashing, often heard when the coots
cannot be seen for the tall sedges that screen them, is
characteristic of ducks also.

In southern waters, at least, coots and ducks often resort
to the same lakes. At no time of the year silent birds,
often incessant chatterers, it is during the nesting season
that the coots break out into shrill, high-pitched, noisy
cacklings, which the slightest disturbance calls forth.
Jealous, unwilling to permit alien swimmers in their neigh-
borhood, sociable, but without any great love of kin or
kind to mellow their dispositions or their voices, they
make their neighborhood lively. But coots are shy of men,
albeit the young and old alike have flesh no one not
starving could eat, although eagles and some hawks seem
to relish them, and they usually live in some inaccessible
pond or swamp, especially at the nesting season. As
night approaches, they lose much of the timidity which
keeps them concealed and silent the greater part of the
day.

Throughout their wide range the coot is variously
known like the rail as mud hen, also as blue Peter, and
moor hen.

The Great Blue Heron

Length—42 to 50 inches. Stands about 4 feet high.

Male and Female—Crown and throat white, with a long
black crest beginning at base of bill, running through
eye, and hanging over the neck, the two longest nuptial
feathers of which are lacking in autumn. Very long
neck, light brownish gray, the whitish feathers on lower
neck much lengthened and hanging over the dusky and
chestnut breast. Upper parts ashy blue; darker on

a

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 229

wings, which are ornamented with long plumes, similar
to those on breast, in nesting plumage only. Bend of
wing and thighs rusty red. Under parts dusky, tipped
with white and rufous. Long legs and feet, black. Bill,
longer than head, stout, sharp, and yellow.

Range—North America at large, from Labrador, Hudson
Bay, and Alaska; nesting locally through range, and
wintering in our Southern states, the West Indies, and
Central and South America.

Season—Summer resident at the north, April to October,
often to December; elsewhere resident all the year.

The Japanese artists, “‘on many a screen and jar, on
many a plaque and fan,” have taught some of us the
aesthetic value of the heron and its allies—birds whose
outstretched necks, long, dangling legs, slender bodies, and
broad expanse of wing give a picturesque animation to our
own marshes.

Standing motionless as the sphinx, with his neck drawn
in until his crested head rests between his angular should-
ers, the big, long-legged, misty-blue heron depends upon
his stillness and protective coloring to escape the notice of
his prey, and of his human foes (for he has no others). In
spite of his size it takes the sharpest eyes to detect him
as he waits in some shallow pool among the sedges along
the creek or river side, silently, solemnly, hour after hour,
for a little fish, frog, lizard, snake, or some large insect to
come within striking distance. With a sudden stroke of
his long, strong, sharp bill, he either snaps up his victim, or
runs it through. A fish will be tossed in the air before
being swallowed, head downward, that the fins may not
scratch his very long, slender throat.

230 BIRDS

Disturb him, and with a harsh rasping squawk he spreads
his long wings, flaps them softly and solemnly, and slowly
flies deeper into the marsh. At close range he looks a
comical mass of angles; but as he soars away and circles
majestically above, his great shadow moving over the
marsh like a cloud, no bird but the eagle is so impressive
and even it is not so picturesque.

Herons are by no means hermits always. Colonies of
ten or fifteen pairs return year after year at the nesting
season to ancestral rookeries, each couple simply relining
with fresh twigs the platform of sticks in a tree-top that has
served a previous brood or generation as a nest. The
three or four dull bluish green eggs that are a little larger
than a hen’s very rarely tumble out of the rickety lattice,
however. Both the crudeness of the nest and the elliptical
form of the egg indicate, among other signs, that the heron
is one of the low forms of bird life, not far removed
from the reptiles, as scientists reckon eons of time. Some-
times nests are found directly on the ground or on the tops
of rocks; but even then the fledglings, that sit on their
haunches in a state of helplessness, make no attempt to run
about for two or three weeks.

Only a generation ago the snowy heron or egret was so
abundant the southern marshes fairly glistened with
flocks, as if piled with snow; but all the trace of this ex-
quisite bird now left is in the aigrettes that, once worn as
its wedding dress, to-day wave above the unthinking brows
of foolish women. In some states there is a penalty at-
tached to the shooting of this heron; but the plume hunters
evade the law by cutting the flesh containing the aigrettes
from the back of the living bird, that is left to die in agony.
Countless thousands of the particularly helpless fledglings,

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 231

suddenly orphaned, have slowly starved to death, and so
rapidly hastened the day when the extinction of the
species must end the sinful folly.

(See plate, page 226.)

The Little Green Heron

This most abundant member of his tropical tribe that
spends the summer with us, is a shy, solitary bird of the
swamps where you would lose your rubber boots in the
quagmire if you attempted to know him too intimately.
But you may catch a glimpse of him as he wades about the
edge of a pond or creek with slow, calculated steps, looking
for his supper. All herons become more active toward
evening because their prey does. By day, this heron, like
his big, blue cousin, might be mistaken for a stump or
snag among the sedges and bushes by the waterside, so
dark and still is he. Herons are accused of the tropical
vice of laziness; but surely a bird that travels from northern
Canada to the tropics and back again every year to earn its
living as the little green heron does, is not altogether lazy.
Startle him, and he springs into the air with a loud
squawk, flapping his broad wings and trailing his greenish-
yellow legs behind him stork fashion.

He and his mate have long, dark-green crests on their
odd-shaped, receding heads and some lengthened, pointed
feathers between the shoulders of their green or grayish-
green hunched backs. The reddish chestnut color on
their necks fades into the brownish ash of their under
parts, divided by a line of dark spots on the white throat
that widen on the breast. Although the little green heron
is the smallest member of this tribe of large birds that we

232 BIRDS

see in the Northern states and Canada, it is about a foot
and a half long, larger than any bird, except one of its own
cousins, that you are likely to see in its marshy haunts.

(See plates, pages, 226-227.)

Unlike many of their kind a pair of these herons prefer
to build their rickety nests apart, rather than in one of those
large, sociable, noisy, and noisome colonies which we as-
sociate with the heron tribe. Flocking is often a fatal
custom.

Almost the last snowy heron and white egret, that form-
erly lived in large colonies, had yielded their bodies to the
knife of the plume hunter before the law protected them.
Inasmuch as all young herons depended upon their parents
through an unusually long, helpless infancy, the little
orphans were left to die by starvation, that the unthinking
heads of vain women might be decked out with aigrettes!
Don’t blame the poor hunters too much when the plumes
were worth their weight in gold. Now, thanks to the
activity of the Audubon Societies, not a woman in America
dares wear an aigrette nor a bird-of-paradise plume.

The Bittern

Length—Varies from 24 to 34 inches.

Male and Female—Subcrested; upper parts freckled with
shades of brown, blackish, buff, and whitish; top of head
and back of neck slate color, with a yellow brown wash;
a black streak on sides of neck; chin and throat white,
with a few brown streaks; under parts pale buff, striped
with brown; head flat. Bill yellow, rather stout, and
sharply pointed; tail small and rounded; legs long and
olive colored.

BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES 233

Range—Temperate North America; nests usually north of
Virginia, and winters from that state southward to the
West Indies.

Season—Summer resident, or visitor from May to October;
permanent in the South.

Even if you have never seen this shy hermit of large
swamps and marshy meadows you must know him by his
remarkable “barbaric yawp.” Not a muscle does this
brown and blackish and buff freckled fellow move as he
stands waiting for prey to come within striking distance of
what appears to be a dead stump. On closer examination
he looks as if he might be carved out of tortoise shell.
Sometimes he stands with his head drawn in until it rests
on his back; or, he may hold his head erect and pointed up-
ward when he looks like a sharp snag. While he medi-
tates pleasantly on the flavor of a coming dinner, he sud-
‘denly snaps and gulps, filling his lungs with air, then loudly
bellows forth the most unmusical bird cry you are ever
likely to hear. You may recognize it across the marsh half
amile away ormore. A nauseated child would go through
no more convulsive gestures than this happy hermit makes
every time he lifts up his voice to call, pump-er-lunk,
pump-er-lunk, pump-er-lunk. Still another noise has
earned him one of his many popular names, the stake
driver, because it sounds like a stick being driven into the
mud.

A booming bittern will stand hour after hour, almost
every day in summer, year after year, on a dark, decaying
pile of an old dock or at the edge of the reeds. Relying on
his protective coloring and poses for concealment in so ex-
posed a place, he profits by his fearlessness in broad day-

234 BIRDS

light next to an excellent feeding ground. At low tide he
walks about sedately on the muddy flats treading out a
dinner. ‘Kingfishers rattle up and down the creek, cack-
ling rails hide in the sedges behind it, red-winged black-
birds flute above the phalanxes of rushes on its banks:
but the bittern makes more noise, especially toward even-
ing during the nesting season, than all the other inhabi-
tants of the swampy meadows except the frogs, whose
voices he forever silences when hecan. Frogs, legs and all,
are his favorite delicacy.

CHAPTER XIX

THE FASTEST FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND
DIVERS

CanaDA GoosE—WILD Ducxs—Herring Guit—Loon

Canada Goose

Length—From 1 yard to 48 inches.

Male and Female—Head and neck black, a broad white
band running from eye to eye under the head; mantle
over back and wings grayish brown, the edges of feathers
lightest; breast gray, fading to soiled white underneath.
Female paler; tail, bill, and feet black.

Range—North America at large; nests in northern parts of
the United States and in the British possessions; winters
southward to Mexico.

Season—Chiefly a spring and autumn migrant, north of
Washington; although a few remain so late (December)
and return so early (March) they may almost be said to
be winter residents North as well as South. The most
abundant and widely distributed of all our wild geese.

Heralded by a mellow honk, honk, from the leader of a
flying wedge, on come the long-necked wild geese from
their northern nesting grounds, and stream across the
autumn sky so far above us that their large bodies appear

235

236 BIRDS

like two lines of dark dots describing the letter V. In
spite of their height, which never seems as great as it
actually is because of the goose’s large size, one can dis-
tinctly hear the honk of the temporary captain—some
heavy veteran—answered in clearer, deeper tones, as the
birds pass above, by the rear guardsmen in the long array
that moves with impressive unison across the clouds.
Often the fanning of their wings is distinctly audible, too.
The migration of all birds can but excite wonder and stir
the imagination; but that of the wild goose embarked on a
pilgrimage of several thousand miles, made often at night,
but chiefly by broad daylight, attracts perhaps the most
attention. Sometimes the two diverging lines come to-
gether into one, and a serpent seems to crawl with snake-
like undulations across the sky; or, again, the flock in
Indian file shoots straight as an arrow. It is as a bird of
passage that one thinks of the goose, however well one
knows that it remains resident in many places at least a
part of the winter.

A slow drift down a slope of a mile or more, on almost
motionless wings, brings them to the surface with majestic
grace, and flying low until the precise spot is reached where
they wish to rest, they settle on the water with a heavy
splash. Usually they stop flying near sunset to feed with
much noisy cackling on the eel-grass, sedges, roots of
aquatic plants or on the wheat, corn, and other grain that
has dropped among the stubble in the farmers’ fields, for
they are strict vegetarians.

Geese spend much more time on land than ducks do.
By studying the habits of the common barnyard goose we
learn many of the ways of its wild relations that nest too
far north to be watched. Canada geese that have been

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS) = 237

wounded by sportsmen in the fall, can be kept ona farm
perfectly contented all winter; but when the honking
flocks return from the South in March or April, they rarely
resist “the call of the wild,” and away they go toward their
kin and freedom.

Wild Ducks

Birds that spend their summers for the most part north
of the United States and travel past us faster than the
fastest automobile racer or locomotive—and an hundred
miles an hour is not an uncommon speed for ducks to fly—
need have little to fear, one might suppose. But so
mercilessly are they hunted whenever they stop to rest,
that few birds are more timid.

River and pond ducks, that have the most delicious
flavor because they feed on wild rice, celery, and other
dainty fare, frequent sluggish streams and shallow ponds.
There they tip up their bodies in a funny way to probe
about the muddy bottoms, their heads stuck down under
water, their tails and flat, webbed feet in the air directly
above them, just as barnyard ducks stand on their heads.
They like to dabble along the shores, too, and draw out
roots, worms, seeds, and tiny shellfish imbedded in the
banks. Of course they get a good deal of mud in their
mouths, but their broad flat bills have strainers on the sides,
and merely by shutting them tight, the mud and water are
forced out of the gutters. After nightfall ducks seem
especially active and noisy.

In every slough where mallards, blue- and green-winged
teal, widgeons, black duck and pintails settle down to rest
in autumn, gunners wait concealed in the sedges. Decoy-

238 BIRDS

ing the sociable birds by means of painted wooden images
of ducks floating on the water near the blind, they com-
mence the slaughter at daybreak. But ducks are of all
targets the most difficult, perhaps, for the tyro to hit. On
the slightest alarm they bound from the water on whistling
wings and are off at a speed that only the most expert shot
overtakes. No self-respecting sportsman would touch the
little wood duck—the most beautiful member of its family
group. It is as choicely colored and marked as the Chi-
nese mandarin duck, and a possible possession for every one
who has a country place with woods and water on it. Un-
like its relatives, the wood duck nests in hollow trees and
bird boxes and carries its ducklings to the water in its
mouth as a cat carries its kittens.

The large group of sea and bay ducks contains the can-
vasback, red-head, and other vegetarian ducks, dear to the
sportsman and epicure. These birds may, perhaps, be
more familiar to some in butcher-shop windows, than in
life. Enormous flocks once descended upon the Chesa-
peake Bay region. To Virginia and Maryland, therefore,
hastened all the gunners in the East until the canvasback,
at least, is even more rare in the sportsman’s paradise than
it is on the epicure’s plate. Every kind of duck is now
served up as canvasback, even impossible old squaws, the
noisy black and white ducks that stay around northern
feeding grounds until they are quite frozen over. Some
sea ducks, which are fish eaters, have flesh too rank and
oily for the table. They dive for their food, often to a
great depth, pursuing and catching fish under water like
the saw-billed mergansers or shelldrakes which form a dis-
tinct group. The surf scoters, or black coots, so abundant
off the Atlantic coast in winter, dive constantly to feed on

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 239

mussels, clams, or scallops. Naturally such athletic birds
are very tough.

With the exception of the wood duck, all ducks nest on
the ground. Twigs, leaves, and grasses form the rude
cradle for the eggs, and, as a final touch of devotion, the
mother plucks feathers from her own soft breast for the
eggs to lie in. When there is any work to be done the
dandified drakes go off by themselves, leaving the entire
care of raising the family to their mates. Then they moult
and sometimes lose so many feathers they are unable to fly.
But by the time the ducklings are well grown and strong of
wing, the drake joins the family, one flock joins another,
and the ducks begin their long journey southward. But
very few people, even in Canada where many ducks nest,
can ever hope to know them in their inaccessible swampy
homes.

The Shoveler

Length—18 to 20 inches.

Male—Head and neck rusty, glossy bluish green; back
brown, paler on the edges of the feathers, and black on
lower back and tail; patches on sides of base of tail;
lower neck, upper breast, and some wing feathers white;
lower breast and underneath reddish chestnut; shoul-
ders grayish blue; wing patch green. Bill longer than
head, twice as wide at end as at base, and rounded over
like a spoon; teeth at the sides in long, slender plates.
Tail short, consisting of fourteen sharply pointed feath-
ers. Feet small and red.

Female—Smaller, darker, and duller than male. Head
and neck streaked with buff, brown, and black; throat

240 BIRDS

yellowish white; back dark olive brown, the feathers
lighter on the edges; under parts yellowish brown in-
distinctly barred with dusky; wings much like male’s,
only less vivid. Immature birds have plumage inter-
mediate between their parents; their shoulders are slaty
gray and the wing patch shows little or no green.

Range—‘‘Northern Hemisphere; in America more common
in the interior; breeds regularly from Minnesota north-
ward and locally as far south as Texas; not known to
breed in the Atlantic states; winters from southern
Illinois and Virginia southward to northern South
America.” (Chapman.)

Season—Winter visitor in the South; spring and autumn
migrant north of Washington; more abundant in autumn
migrations in the East.

However variable the plumage of this duck may be in
the sexes and at different seasons, its strangely shaped bill
at once identifies it, no other representatives of the spoon-
bill genus of ducks having found their way to North

- American waters. Apparently the shoveler is guided by
touch rather than sight, as it pokes about on the muddy
shores of ponds or tips up to probe in the shallow waters
for the small shellfish, insects, roots of aquatic plants, and
small fish it feeds on. It is not a strict vegetarian, how-
ever delicate and delicious its flesh may be at the proper
season. There are many sportsmen who would not pass a
shoveler to shoot a canvasback.

North of the United States, where these ducks chiefly
have their summer home, we hear of the jaunty, parti-
colored drake, gayly decked out for the nesting season,

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 241

when he is truly beautiful to behold, and charmingly at-
tentive to his more sombre mate. By the time the au-
tumn migration has brought them over our borders, how-
ever, he has cast off many of his fine feathers, together with
his gallant manners, and closely resembles the duck in all
but character. He is ever a selfish idler, while she attends
to all the drudgery of making the nest in the marshy border
of the lake; of incubating from six to fourteen pale greenish
buff eggs during four weeks of the closest confinement; of
caring for the large brood and teaching the ducklings all the
family arts.

Shovelers are expert swimmers and divers, though they
“tip up”’ rather than dive for food; they are good walkers
also, when we see them in the cornfields, and almost as
swift on the wing asateal. Took, took, took, took, that an-
swers as a love song and the expression of whatever passing
emotion the ordinarily silent birds may voice, was likened
by Nuttall to “a rattle, turned by small jerks in the hand.”

Like most other ducks of this subfamily, the shoveler
is not common in the northern Atlantic states. Salt
water never attracts it; but, on the contrary, it rejoices in
lakes, sluggish rivers and streams, isolated grass-grown
ponds, and even puddles made by the rain. In the
sloughs and lagoons of the lower Mississippi Valley it is
still fairly common all winter, however much it is perse-
cuted by the gunners.

“These birds migrate across the country to the western
plains where they nest,” said Chamberlain, “from North
Dakota and Manitoba northward, ranging as far ‘as
Alaska.” In such remote places, where the hand of the
law rarely reaches the nefarious pot hunter, he happily
finds the ducks in the very prime of toughness.

242 BIRDS

The Pintail

Length—Male 25 to 30 inches, according to development
of tail, female 22 inches.

‘Male—Head and throat rich olive brown, glossed with

green and purple; blackish on back of neck; two white
lines, beginning at the crown, border the blackish space,
and become lost in the white of the breast and under
parts. Underneath faintly, the sides more strongly, and
the back heavily marked with waving black lines; back
darkest; shoulders black; wing coverts brownish gray,
the greater ones tipped with reddish brown; speculum
or wing patch purplish green; central tail feathers very
long and greenish black. Bill and feet slate colored.
Female—Tail shorter, but with central feathers sharply
pointed. Upper parts mottled gray and yellowish and
dark brown; breast pale yellow brown freckled with
dusky; whitish beneath, the sides marked with black and
white; only traces of the speculum in green spots on brown
area of wing; tail with oblique bars. In nesting plum-
age the drake resembles the female except that his wing
markings remain unchanged.

Range—North America at large, nesting north of Illinois
to the Arctic Ocean; winters from central part of the
United States southward to Panama and West Indies.
Season—Chiefly a spring and autumn migrant, or more
rarely a winter visitor, in the northern part of the United
States; a winter resident in the South.

No one could possibly mistake the long-tailed drake in
fall plumage for any other species; but the tyro who would

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 243

not confound his dusky mate with several other obscure
looking ducks must take note of her lead-colored bill and
legs, broad, sharply pointed tail feathers, and dusky under
wing coverts. The pintails carry themselves with a
stately elegance that faintly suggests the coming swan.
Their necks, unusually long and slender for a duck;
their well-poised heads and trim, long bodies, unlike
the squat figure of some of their kindred; their sharp wings
and pointed tails—these characteristics give them both
dignity and grace in the air, on the land, or in the water,
for they appear equally at home in the three elements.
But of such charms as they possess they are exceedingly
chary. In the wet prairie lands and grass-grown shallow
waters which they delight in, huntersfind these birds thefirst
to take alarm—troublesomely vigilant, noisy chatterers,
with avery small bump of curiosity that discourages tolling
or decoys; nervous and easily panic stricken. At the first
crack of the gun they shoot upward in a confused, strug-
gling mass that gives all too good a chance for a pot shot.
If they had learned to scatter themselves in all directions,
to dive under water or into the dense sedges when alarmed,
as some ducks do, there would be many more pintails alive
to-day; but usually they practise none of these protections.
There are men living who recall the times, never to return,
when ducks resorted literally by the million to the Kanka-
kee and the Calumet regions; and pintails in countless mul-
titudes swelled the hordes that thronged out of the North
in the autumn migration. In spite of their enormous fer-
tility, their strong, rapid flight, their swimming and diving
powers, their shyness and readiness to take alarm—in spite
of the lavish protection that nature has given them, and of
their economic value to man—there are great tracts of

244, BIRDS

country where these once abundant game birds have been
hunted to extinction.

From the West and the North sportsmen follow the ducks
into the lower Mississippi Valley region and our Southern
seaboard states, where the majority winter. Widgeons
and black ducks often associate with them there. The
canvasback, the red-head, the black duck, the teals and the
mallard, while counted greater delicacies, by no means at-
tract the exclusive attention of the pot hunter when pintails
arein sight. Given a good cook and a young, fat, tender
duck, even Macaulay’s school-boy could tell the result.

It is an amusing sight to see a flock of drakes feeding in
autumn, when they chiefly live apart by themselves.
Tipping the fore part of their bodies downward while,
with their long necks distended, they probe the muddy
bottoms of the lake for thevegetable matter and low animal
forms they feed upon, their long tails stand erect above the
surface like so many bulrushes growing in the water. They
seem able to stand on their heads in this fashion in-
definitely ; a spasmodic working of their feet in the air from
time to time testifying only to the difficulty a bird may be
having to loosen some much-desired root.

The Herring Gull

Length—24 to 25 inches.

Male and Female—In summer: Mantle over back and
wings deep pearl gray, head, tail, and under parts white.
Outer feathers of wings chiefly black, with rounded
white spots near thetips. In winter: Similar to summer
plumage, but with grayish streaks or blotches about the
head and neck.

a ee

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 245

Young—Upper parts ashy brown; head and neck marked
with buff, and back and wings margined and marked
with the same color; outer feathers of wings brownish
black, lacking round white spots; black or brownish tail
feathers gradually fade to white.

Range—Nests from Minnesota and New England north-
ward, especially about the St. Lawrence, Nova Scotia,
Newfoundland, and Labrador. Winters from Bay of
Fundy to West Indies and Lower California.

Season—Winter resident. Common from November until
March.

As the robin is to the land birds, so is the herring gull to
the sea fowl—overwhelmingly predominant during the
winter in the Great Lakes and larger waterways of the in-
terior, just as it is about the docks of our harbors, along
our coasts, and very far out at sea. There are at least
three things one never tires watching: the blaze of a wood
fire, the breaking of waves on a beach, and the flight
of a flock of gulls sailing about serenely on broad,
strong wings—gliding and darting and skimming with a
poetry of motion few birds can equal.

Not many years ago gulls became alarmingly scarce.
Why? Because silly girls and women, to follow fashion,
trimmed their hats with gull’s wings until hundreds of
thousands of these birds and their exquisite little cousins,
the terns or sea swallows, had been slaughtered. Then
some vigilant Audubon Societies said the massacre must
stop and happily the law now says so, too. Paid keepers
patrol some of the islands where gulls and terns nest, which
is the reason why one may see ashy-brown young gulls

246 BIRDS

nowadays in almost every flock. When they mature, a
pearl-gray mantle covers their backs and wings, and their
breasts, heads, and tails become snowy white. Their col-
oring now suggests fogs and white-capped waves.

Why protect birds that are not fit for food and that kill
no mice nor insects in the farmer’s fields? is often asked.
A wise man once said “the beautiful is as useful as the use-
ful’’; but the picturesque gulls are not preserved merely to
enliven marine pictures and to please the eye of travelers.
They fill the valuable office of scavengers of the sea.
Lobsters and crabs, among many other creatures under the
ocean, gulls, terns, and petrels, among many creatures over
it, do for the water what the turkey buzzard does for the
land—rid it of enormous quantities of refuse. When one
watches hundreds of gulls following the garbage scows out
of New York harbor, or sailing in the wake of an ocean
liner a thousand miles or more away from land, to pick up
the refuse thrown overboard from the ship’s kitchen, one
realizes the excellence of Dame Nature’s housecleaning.

Gulls are greedy creatures. No sooner will one member
of a flock swoop down upon a morsel of food, than a horde
of hungry companions, in hot pursuit, chase after him to
try to frighten him into dropping his dinner. With a
harsh, laughing cry, akak, kak, akak, kak, kak, they wheel
and float about a feeding ground for hours at a time.

And they fly incredibly far and fast. A flock that has
followed an ocean greyhound all day will settle down to
sleep at night “bedded” on the rolling water like ducks
while “rocked in the cradle of the deep.” After a rest that
may last till dawn, they rise refreshed, fly in the direction
of the vanished steamer, and actually overtake it with ap-
parent ease in time to pick up the scraps from the break-

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 247

fast table. Reliable captains say the same birds follow a
ship from our shores all the way across the Atlantic.

The Loon

_Length—31 to 36 inches.

Male and Female—In summer: Upper parts glossy black,
showing iridescent violet and green tints. Back and
wings spotted and barred with white; white spaces lined
with black on the neck marking off black bands like
collars, and sides of breast streaked with black and white.
Breast and underneath white. Bill stout, straight,
sharply pointed, and yellowish green. Legs, at rear
of body, are short, buried, and feathered to heel joint.
Tail short. Feet black and webbed. In winter and
immature specimens: Upper parts blackish and feath-
ers margined with grayish, not spotted with white.
Underneath white with grayish wash at throat.

Range—Northern part of Northern Hemisphere. In
North America breeds from the northern United States
to Arctic Circle, and winters from the southern limit of
its breeding range to the Gulf of Mexico.

Season—A wandering winter resident. Most common in

. the migrations from September to May, except in
mountain lakes.

This largest and handsomest of the diving birds comes
down to our latitude in winter, when its favorite inland
lakes at the North begin to freeze over and the fish to fail,
and wanders about far from the haunts of men along the
seacoast or by the fresh waterways. Cautious, shy, fond

248 BIRDS

of solitude, it shifts about from place to place discouraging
our acquaintance. By the time it reaches the United
States in autumn—for the majority nest farther north—
it has exchanged its rich, velvety black and white wedding
garment for a more dingy suit, in which the immature
specimens are also dressed. With strong, direct flight
small companies of loons may be seen high overhead mi-
grating southward to escape the ice that locks up their
food; or a solitary bird, some fine morning, may cause us to
look up to where a long-drawn, melancholy, uncanny
scream seems to rend the very clouds. But the loon has
also a soft and rather pleasing cry, to which Longfellow re-
ferred:

2 . “The loon that laughs and flies
Down to those reflected skies.”

A mirror-like lake in the Adirondacks or White Moun-
tains is ever a loon’s idea of paradise.

Loons are remarkable divers and swimmers. The
cartridge of the modern breech-loader gives no warning of
a coming shot, as the old-fashioned flint-lock did; never-
-theless, the loon, which is therefore literally quicker than a
flash at diving, disappears nine times out of ten before the
shot reaches the spot where the bird had been floating with
apparent unconcern only a second before. Hell-diver and
great northern diver are among its popular names. Cer-
tainly it appears to descend suddenly, when alarmed, to the
nethermost regions. A vigorous swimmer under water, it
will reappear far from where one might reasonably expect
to seeitarise. As its flesh is dark, tough, and unpalatable,
the sportsman loses nothing of value except his temper,
Sometimes young loons are eaten in camps where better

FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 249

meat is scarce, and are even offered in large city markets
where it isn’t.

In spring, when the ice has broken up, a pair of loons re-
tire to the shores of some lonely inland lake or river, and
here on the ground they build a rude nest in a slight de-
pression near enough to the water to glide off into it with-
out touching their feet to the sand. In June two grayish
olive brown eggs, spotted with umber brown, are hatched.
The young are frequently seen on land as they go waddling
from pond to pond. After the nesting season the parents
separate and undergo a moult which sometimes leaves so
few feathers on their bodies that they are unable to rise in
the air. When on land they are at any time almost help-
Jess and exceedingly awkward, using their wings and bill to
assist their clumsy aquatic feet.

THE END

COLOR KEY

CONSPICUOUSLY BLACK

Bronzed grackle .
Cowirds ie

Purple grackle .

5 lemartin . . . . .
» 129 Red-winged blackbird, . . . .
. i Rusty blackbird . . . . 1

‘CONSPICUOUSLY BLACK AND WHITE

Black and white creping warbler. . 69 Rose-breasted irs
Betveaieie! © 00 ie sere

owny wi et 2 ee " nowy heron . . .
Pecee ent oe - 244 Towhee. .. a

es ee ee
ae near
.

Loon. . 2 il 2 2 1 2 247 white egret .
Pintal © 2 2 1 02 2 2 2 2 242 © Yellow-bellied woodpecker :
Red-headed woodpecker . . . . 160
‘BLUE AND BLUISH BIRDS
Barn swallow e * % 91 = Cliff or Eaves swallow . , Pe
Belted kingfisher 168 Great blueheron . . :

Blue jay. . .
Bluebird: °°

ee ee

ee ae
.

eeee
.

135 = Indigo bunti oe
21 Mourningdove. | |

BIRDS CONSPICUOUSLY YELLOW AND ORANGE

Baltimoreoriole . . . . . . 123 Redstart et er oe eS
Bie butnien warbler. . . . . 63 Yellow-breasted ‘chat ee oe Cs
Goldfinch - » « « 115 Yellow-throated vireo. . . ..
Maryland yellowthroat™ - » »« « 58 £=Yellowwarbler. . . . . . «

BIRDS CONSPICUOUSLY RED
Cardinal. . . . . «. - 101 Scarlettanagerr. . 2. .

Orchard oriole | 2 2 5 1 2 5 123) Screchowh. > 2 2 2 2 i 2
Purple finch . . . . . « - 117 + Sparrow-hawk . . . 1... .
Robit 5 ie ste ww

GREEN, GREENISH GRAY, OLIVE AND YELLOWISH OLIVE BIRDS

rail. ~ «6 « « » 226 Ruby-crowned king "
len-crowned ‘kinglet « « « « .32 Ruby-throated humming bird .
Little gree nen . 6 © « « «+ 231 Treeswallow . a oe
- © « « » » 60 Warblingvireo. . . . ...
eeered vireo: 3: 3 2 i... 7 Whiteeyedvireo . 1... 1.

251

PAGE

rE

Canada goose . .
Catbird
Chestnut-sided warbler

Chickadee . . . .
Chimney swift

se ewan

COLOR KEY

DUSKY, GRAY, AND SLATE-COLORED BIRDS

a ay ‘Ss sae andi the Sharp-shinned

Coot .
Crested fiyeateher .
Junco. . .
Kingbird ‘i
Least flycatcher" .

sen eee

Loggerhead shrike .
Mocking-bird . .
Myrtle warbler. .

Northern shrike.
Passenger pigeon
Phoebe . é
Red-breasted nuthatch

Semi-palmated or Ring-necked plover

Spotted sandpiper .

Tufted titmouse

White-breasted nuthatch
pewee. . .

BROWN, OLIVE OR GRATISH. BROWN, ANG BROWN AND GRAY SPARROWY

Barred owl
Bittern.
Bob-white or “Quail”
Brown thrasher .
Carolina wren
Cedar waxwing .
Chipping sparrow .
English sparrow.
Field ? seas in Ss
licker. oe
Fox sparrow a.
House wren. .
Killdeer . .
Least sand) iper”
Long-eared or Cat owl

j Meadow-larik

Bald eagle and Gplden eats

Osprey .....
Red-shouldered hawk .
Red-tailed hawk . .
Ruffed grouse . . .
Short-eared owl . .
Shoveler. . . 2. .
Song sparrow . .
Sora or Carolina rail:
Swamp sparrow . .
Tree sparrow . . .
isla i vulture. . .

eery
Vesper sparrow . é
Whippoorwill.

White-crowned sparrow
White-throated sparrow
Woodthrush . . .

ew ere rere vente ee

eee ews eewe

Woodcock . . . . . ws
Yellow-billed and Black-billed cuckoos

INDEX

gr Saas Golden-crowned, see Oven-

American eagle, see Bald eagle
American Ornithologists’ Union . .
American ortolan, see Bobolink
American swift, see Chimney swift
Arctic chipper, see Tree sparrow
Audubon Societies. . . . 1

Baldeagle . .
Baltimore oriole
swallow

see ee
oe eee
see eee
ee eee
see eee

Bay-winged bunting, see Vesper spar-
row

Bee martin, see Kingbird

Bellbird, see Wood kaa

Belted kingfisher . . we

Big blue darter. . Se Ge

Big rail, see Clapper rail

Birch partridge, see Ruffed grouse

Birds as insect destroyers .

Birds as scavengers . .

Birds as weed- ears .

Birds in the orchard ‘

Birds of prey.

Birds—their services to man

sebe
io2)

PAGE

Bitten . . 2,
Black and white creeping warbler. > 69
Black-billed cuckoo. - 171
Black-capped thrush, see Catbird™
Black-capped titmouse, see Chickadee
Black-masked ground warbler, see
Maryland yellowthroat
Black-winged redbird, see Scarlet
tanager
Blackbird family. - «+ « 120-132
Blackbird, Red-winged Sr jer eh, er 2
Blackbird, Rusty . . . . . . 122
Blackbirds, Crow . . . - + - 121
Blackburnian warbler . 62
Bloody-sided_ warbler, see Chestnut-
sided warbler
Blue darters, The - + « 194
Blue hawk, see Marsh hawk
Blue heron, Great. . -» - - + 228
Bluejay. . . -. - -« « « «= 135
Blue Peter . eae 228
Blue robin, see Bluebird
Bluebird Pee A ag ae SL
Bob-white . . . + + - + «+ 206
Bobolink ew me te wi 8D
Booming bitten: ee 8 ee 233

PAGE
Bridge pewee, see Phoebe
Broadbill, see Shoveler
Bronzed grackle zi 121
Brown-headed oriole, see Cowbird
Brown mocking-bird, see Brown
thrasher
Brown thrasher _. 47
Brown thrush, see Brown thrasher_
Bull-bat fe ust” cals cast” es fay" 4a? oy, LAD!
Bunter Ground | ! 103
Bunting, Snow, see Snowflake”
Bush sparrow, see Field pean
Butcher birds . - « 77-80
ioe see Bobolink ”
Buzzar ae oat a ee ae ay 9G
Canada goose
Canada nuthatch, ‘see Red-breasted
nuthatch
Canada robin, see Cedar waxwing
Canada sparrow, see Tree sparrow;
also White-throated sparrow
Canada tanager, see meet fanialier
Canvasback eo ae . - 238
Cardinal 101
Carolina dove, see Mourning dove
Carolinarail . . . . . . . 224
Carolinawren . . »~ « «© «1 47
Catowl. . . . 2. «. « « « 179
Catbird . . eee es « 49
Cedar bird, see Cedar waxwing
Cedarbird . . . . .... 8
Cedar waxwing . 80
one Polyglot, see Yellow-breasted
Chat, Vellow- breasted. . . . . 57
ches: he bird, see Cedar pane
erry-bird, see Ce waxwing ”
Chestnut-sided warbler... - 63
Chewink oe 28 e @ ew @ LOS
Chickadee . 34
Chicken hawk, see Red-shouldered
hawk and Red-tailed Hawk and
Cooper’s hawk
Chimney swift. . . . . . . JL
Chinch bug. . . 2. 2. 2. © e 11
chipping sparrow e « « «© « 109
Chip » « « « « J09
Chuck wits Widow > 2 i i 2 148

Clape, see Flicker
Clapperrail. . . .
soe swallow eres
oper’shawk . . .
Coot .

ee
Corn thief, see Crow as

253

Q54

PAGE
Cowbird x ane
Crescent swallow, see Cliff ‘swallow
Crested flycatcher ._ . - . M1

Crested redbird, see Cardinal
Crested titmouse, see Tufted titmouse
Crested tomtit, see Tufted aaures

Crow ide, ae » 133
Grom blackbirds 2] 121
Cuckoos, The . . . . : 171-173
Cuckoos’ work, The . . . . .

Darters, The Blue. . 194

Devil downhead, see White-breasted
nuthatch

Diver, Great northern, see Loon

Dove, Carolina or Turtle, see Mourn-

ing dove
Dove, Mourning . . . . . . 201
Downy woodpecker - « « 164
uck, Winter, see Pintail
Ducks, Wild » 237-244

Dusky flycatcher, see Phoebe

Eagle, Ring-tailed, Mountain or War,
see Golden eagle

Eagle, White-headed, panican or
Washington, see Bald eagle

Eagles,The. . . . . . «. 187-189
Eaves swallow. . . . . . . 9
Beret, « « « % © # & =» », 220
English sparrow . . . . . «5,113
Falcon, Rusty-crowned_ . - 186

Fe ‘inous finch, see Fox sparrow

Field bunting, see Field sparrow

Field lark, see MeseeW lane

Field sparrow . . - . +. 108

Fiery-crowned wren, * see Golden-
crowned kinglet

Finch, Purple . 117

Firebird, see Baltimore oriole; ‘also
Scarlet Tanager

Fish hawk, see Osprey

Flicker Bo de ge. Gah dee Lee CB

Flycatchers, The 2 > 2 1 2 138-146

Fox sparrow. ~ . « 106

Foxy finch, see Fox sparrow

French mocking-bird, see
thrasher

eo Long-winged, see Night-
Golden-crowned accentor, see Oven-

bird
Golden-crownedkinglet . 32
Golden-crowned thrush, see Oven-bird
Golden-crowned wagtail, seeOven-bird
Golden eagle 187
Golden oriole or - robin, see Baltimore
oriole

Brown

Golden warbler, see Yellow warbler

Golden-winged woodpecker . . . 158
Goldfinch . 2. . 2. . we «O25
Grackles e ow « « LL

Grasel, see Towhee "
Grassfinch, see Vesper sparrow
Grasshoppers and meadow-larks. . 11

INDEX

G Canada 3

‘ay goose, see Canada goose

Great blue heron. . - » 228
Great northern diver, see Loon

Green heron, Little . . . . .» 231
Greenlets, The - 1-76
Grosbeak, Cardinal, see Cardinal”
Grosbeak, Rose-breasted . . : «
Ground robin or bunting - 103
Ground thrush, see Brown ‘thrasher
Grouse, Ruffed. . . . - . - i

, Herring .. . .
Gull, Winter, see Herring gull
Hair-bird, see Chipping: sparrow
Hairy woodpecker - . 166
renew see P Belted king fisher.

Fang -nest, see Baltimore oriole

Blueor planets see Marsh hawk

Hoe Cooper 193
Hawk, Hen on Chicken, see Red-

shouldered hawk and’ Red-tailed

hawk and Cooper’s hawk
Hawk, Killy 2. « « «°w » 185
Hawk, Marsh . . . ... . 195
Hawk, Mosquito . .... . 149
Hawk, iicuse ‘ sh < shi ie hav " 186
awk, Pigeon, vas Sharp inn w/]
Hawk, Red-shou eae |
Hawk; Red- oe es @ w « 192
Hawk, Bee sinned oe LE se 93
Hawk,
Hawk, inter, see Red-shouldered

awl
Hawks, Services of . -18-
Hemlock warbler, see’ Blackburnian
warbler
Hen hawk, see Red-shouldered hawk
gud Red-tailed hawk and Cooper's

hawk
“Hen Hawks,” The . . . .

190-193
Heron, Great blue. . . . . . 228
Heron, Little green * 6+ « « « 23h
eer otal ee ae Sey ate oH
erring ee ee ee ee ee

Highhole . . . ... . . 158
Honker, see Canada goose
Hoot owl - 176
Horned owl, Little, ‘see Screech owl
House sparrow, see English apeiron
House wren . . 44

‘umming-bird, Ruby-throated . . 13
Indigo bunting. . . 2. . . . 98
Insects and birds. . . . . G12
Jay,Blue ss et so ew = TS
Joree 5S See leh ter Ss oe ai es LOS:
Junco . . 2 1 ew ee ww 104
Kestrel . . . . . . . . . 1868
Killder . 2. 1. 2. 1... ew, 288
Killyhawk . 2. 2. . 1. 1] .. 185
Kingbird . toe ce es 36139,
Kingfisher, Belted > 2 > > 2)’ 168
Kinglets, The . . . . . «© . 32
Lark, Snow, see petals
Least flycatcher. .~ + « 145

Least sandpiper ....

PAGE
Limnet . 2 « © « « w « » LD
Little blue darter . . . . . . 194
Little green heron . . . 231
Little horned owl, see Screech owi
Loggerhead shrike . ‘i xs
Long-billed marsh wen . .y. 2 42
Long-eared owl . 179

Long-winged goatsucker, “see * Night-
hawk
Looks «© «= «© & «© © & « © 247

Maize thief, see Purple grackle

Marsh hawk 2 = « 193

Marsh hen, see Clapper rail”

Marsh owl, see Short-eared owl

Marsh sparrow, see eign sparrow

Marsh wren a ee oe ee

Martin, Purple c=

Martin, Sand, see Bank swallow

Maryland yellow-throat eo a eer 88

Mavis, see Brown thrasher

Maybird, see Bobolink

Meadow-bird, see Bobolink

Meadow owl, see Short-eared owl

Meadow ots see Least San

Meadow-lar! 126

Tee tans and prasshoppers . cae 8
Mocking based see Carolina wren

Mocking-bird . . 52

Mocking-bird, Brown, see Brown

thrasher
Mocking-bird, French, see

Brown
thrasher
Mocking-bird, Yellow, see Yellow-
breasted chat
Monkey tecediow! gover aes eo. ee ASL,
Moorhen . s oe ae
Mosquito-hawk - » 149
Mottled owl, see Screech owl ”
Mountain eagie, see Gelden eaile
Mourning dove. . - . 201
Mouse hawk - 186

Mouse hawk, see also Marsh hawic

Mud-hens, The : « 223-228
Myrtle warbler. . . - . - . G4
Night-jar . . x = we &
Night-hawk . . . 149

Nightingale, Virginia, see Cardinal
Nine-killer, see Northern s|

Northern diver, Great, see Loon
Northern shrike

Nuthatch, Canada, see Red-breasted

nuthat
Nuthatches, The . . . . © .38-41
238

Oldan ter lark, see , Meadow-lark

Orange-throated warbler, see Black-
burnian warbler

Orchard oriole

Orchard starling or hang- nest, see
Orchard oriole

Orchards and Peds ~ 0 « © _.14-16

Orioles, The é deat

Oriole’s ad The BF cs
“Ortolans a
Osprey . «© «& © » « = w + 182

255

Oven-bird . FAO

Owl, Hoot or Wood, see Barred owl”

Owl, Marsh, Meadow or Prairie, see
Short-eared owl

Owl, Mottled, Red or Little horned,
see Screech owl

Owls, The . . . . . « . 174-182
Oneye 4 «= « «© + « « « » 216
“Partridge” ~ « « 210
“Partridge,” see "also Quail
Passenger pigeon . - » . 203
Peabody bird, see White-throated
sparrow
Peet-v eet, SE tt ds : ee
-we see ed sandpi,
Pewee, Wood i al . 144
a Pheasant” oe iy ar we ew 210
Phoebe . 142,
Pigeon hawk, see Sharp-shinned hawk
Pigeon, Passenger ae » « « 203
ea wie ee dt ws a co 2208
igeon Woo pecker Gove a et ay DBS:
Pintail 242

Piramidig, see Night- hawk.
Pisk, see Night-hawk
Plover, Killdeer . 214
Plover, Semi-palmated or Red-necked 215
Pocket-bird, see Scarlet tanager
Polyglot chat, see Yellow-breasted
chat
Prairie owl, see Short-eared owl
eae see boihas dues vireo i

Purple ae we a ce we AT
Purple gra -
Purple ffanet, see Purple finch

Purple mart: oa - e . &
Rails, The 224-226

Rain crow, see Black-billed or Yeliow-
billed cuckoo

Récollet, see Cedar waxwing

Red-breasted nuthatch - -
Red-breasted thrush, see Robin

Red-eyed vireo . - 7
Red grass-bird, see Swamp sparrow
Red-headed woodpecker . - 160

Red owl, see Screech owl

Red-shouldered hawk . . . . . 190
Red-tailed hawk . - « 492
Red thrush, see Brown ‘thrasher
Red-winged blackbird . o 127
Redbird, see Summer tanager_

Redbird, Black-winged, see Scarlet
Redbud, Crested, see Cardmmal

Redbird, Summer . - - 8
Redbird, Virginia . . . . . . 101
Redstart . 55
Reedbird, see Bobolink:

Ring-neck . » - . 215
Ring-necked pl lover . 215
pug taued eagle see Golden eagle

Robin . - 24

Robin, Blue, see Bluebird *
Robin, Canada, see Cedar waxwing

256

PAGE

Robin, Ground. . - 103
Rocky Mountain swailow, see Cliff
swallow
Robin, Wood, see Wood thrush
Rose-breasted grosbeak . . . . 99
Ruby-crowned kinglet. . 32
Ruby-crowned ‘warbler, see * Ruby-
crowned kinglet
Ruby-crowned wren, ;.see Ruby-
crowned kinglet
Ruby-throated humming-bird . . 153.
Ruffed grouse . . . « »« « « 209
Rusty blackbird . . . . « « 122
Rusty-crowned falcon. . . . 186
Rusty grackle, crow or oriole, s See
Rusty blackbird
Sand lark, see Spotted sandpiper
Sand martin, see Bank swallow
Sand swallow, see Bank swallow
Sandpiper,Least . . . . - « 216
Sandpiper, Spotted » » 217
sae So oe see Yellow-bellied wood-
Scurlet t: tanager. 2. 2. « « «© © 83
Screechowl . .. ew we ALTA
Sea birds, Services of * ee a 20
Semi-palmated plover. . . . . 215
Sharp-shinned hawk . . . . . 193
Short-earedowl . . . . . + 177
aes ~ eo ee ws 2289)
a ke ake
Stunts r blackbird, see Bobolink
Slate-colored snow bird . . . . 104
Snipe, Teeter & « « « 219
Snow bird, Slate-colored | 2 : : 104
Snow bunting = a « « w 105
Snow lark, see Snowflake
Snowbird, see Junco; also ner
Snowflake . . 3. . - s . 105
Snowy heron. 230
Social sparrow, see Chipping sparrow
Song sparrow - . 106
Song thrush, see “Wood ‘thrush’
Sora . oe % ee Se Se
Sparrow, English ee de ow Oe 5
Sparrow-hawk Se Ge Geared
Sparrows, The. . » » « 105-115
Spoonbill, see Shoveler”
Spotted seepine Gy ee ee ee et
Sprigtail, see Pintail
Stake driver. «. « =» & # « 233
Stint . 216

Swallow, Crescent, see Cliff swallow

Swallow, Rocky Mountain, see Cliff
swallow

Swallow, Sand, see Bank swallow

Swallow, White-bellied, see Tree
swallow

Swallows, The . .87-95
Swamp blackbird,’ see Red-winged

blackbird

Swamp sparrow — i o8 @ #8 o vw) 108
Swift, Chimney oe » @ w om BSL
Summerredbird . . . . . « 85
Summer tanager . . . » © » 85
Summer yellow-bird . . . . - 66

INDEX

P.
Tanager, Canada, see eearlet tanager

Tanagers, The A ee ee
Tawny thrush, see Veery ©
Teacher, see Oven-bird

Teeter - - « 218
Thistle bird, see Goldfinch *

Thrasher, Brown . 47
Thrush, Black-capped, ‘see Catbird
ea Blackbird, see Rusty black-
Thrush, Brown, see Brown thrasher
Thrush family -21-31

‘Thrush, Coldencrosmed, see Oven-bird
Thrush, Ground, see Brown thrasher
Thrush, Red, see Brown thrasher
Thrush, Red-breasted, see Robin
Thrush, Song, see Wood thrush
Thrush, Tawny, see Veery

Thrush, Wilson’s, see Veery

Thrush, Wood . . . a a ae 2S
Tiltup 2 2. 2 2 2 Ll 28
Tip-up 6 ew se we «6B
ee oo Black-capped, see Chick-
adee
Titmouse, Crested, see Tufted titmouse
Titmouse, Tufted 37
Torch-bird, see Blackburnian warbler
Towhee . 102
Tree-mouse, see White-breasted nut-
hatch
Treesparrow . . . . . . . HO
Treeswallow . . . . . . . 9
sees see Red-headed wood-
Tufted t titmouse . . emi we JE
Turkey vulture or buzzard | 1 ) 196
Turtle dove, see Mourning dove
Tyrant flycatcher, see Kingbird
Veery . i ee eR we we BO
Vesper sparrow Ser Aa eee 114
Vireos, The . . 71-76
Virginia nightingale, see Cardinal’
Virginia redbird, see Cardi
Vulture, Turkey Ste tay 196
VYuluwes: «& « « © « 19
Wagtail, Golden-crowned, see Oven-
ir
Wagtail, Wood, see Oven-bird
Wake-up, see Flicker
War eagle, see Golden eagle
Warbler, Black and white creeping . 69

Warbler, Black-masked ground, see
Maryland yellowthroat

Warbler, Bloody-sided, see Chestnut-
sided warbler

Warbler, Golden, see Yellow warbler

Warbler, Hemlock, see Blackburnian
warbler

Warbler, Orange-throated, see Black-
burnian warbler

Warbler, Huby crowned, see Ruby-
crowned kinglet

Warbler, Whitepoll, see Black and
white creeping warbler

Warbler, Yellow-crowned, see Myrtle
warbler

"INDEX

PAGE
Marbles Yellow-rumped, see Myrtle

Warbler, Yellow-tailed, see Redstart
Warblers, The . .-. . . . .55-70
Warbling vireo. . - 76
Washington eagle, see Bald eagle"

Water birds, Servicesof . . . . 20
Water pewee, see Phoebe

Waxwing, Cedar x « «, 80
Wace a by birds’. . 12-14

will
White belted swallow, see free swal-
low
RL patie ne nuthatch 4 . . . 38

White-eyed . 74
White-headed cae see Bald éagle
White-throatedsparrow . .. . lil

Whitebird, see Snowflake
Whitepoll warbler, see Black and
white creeping warbler
Wild canary, see Goldfinch
Wild ducks ree eee a
Wild pigeon < - 204
Will-o’-the-wisp, see Night-hawk *
Wilson’s stint, see Least sandpiper
Wilson’s thrush, see Veery
Winter chippy, see Tree sparrow
pe ie ae Fe gull
inter see Herring
Winter hawk or falcon, see Red-'
shouldered hawk
oodduck . . . we
Wood owl, ion Barred owl
Wood pew: . » 144
Wood obis, see Wood thrush”

PAGE
Wood sparrow, see Field lial
Wood thrush « « BB
Wood wagtail, see Oven-bird
Woodcock . ‘ .

é - _.. 220

Woodpeckers, The! > 1 1 1 156-167

Woodpecker’s work, The . . 9

Wren, Fiery-crowned, see Golden-
crowned kinglet

Wren, Mocking, see Carolina wren

Wren, Ruby-crowned, see Ruby-
crowned kinglet

Wrens,The. . 2. . 1. ©. . 42-47
Yaru « « « (8
Yellow-bellied woodpecker" « « « 162
Yellow-bellied cuckoo. . . . . 171
Yellow-bird, Summer . . . . . 66
Yellow-breasted chat . 57

Yellow-crowned warbler, see “Myrtle
warbler

Yellow hammer a ey ecw’ 158.

Yellow mocking- bird, see Yellow-
breasted chat

Yellow poll, see Yellow warbler

Yellow-rumped warbler, see Myrtle

arbler
Yellow-shafted
Flicker

Yellow-tailed warbler, see Redstart
Yellow-throat, Maryland. . . . 58
Yellow-throated vireo. . . . . 7
Yellow warbler . Fi - . &
Yellowbird, see Goldfinch -
Yellowbird, Summer, see Yellow warbler

woodpecker, see

fae

i Ms poke ae
: : 1:
% -