9UR, Birds ^^'
Their HaiJi^ts

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FOR THE PEOPLE

FOR EDVCATION

FOR SCIENCE

LIBRARY

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THE AMERICAN MUSEUM

OF

NATURAL HISTORY

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HAWK OWL.

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OUR BIRDS

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THEIR HAUNTS

A POPULAR TREATISE ON THE BIRDS OF
EASTERN NORTH AMERICA.

BY

REV. J. HIBBERT LANGILLE, M. A.

" How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Flitting about in each leafy tree;
In the leafy trees, so broad and tall,
Like a green and beautiful palace hall.
With its airy chambers, light and boon,
That open to sun and stars and moon.
That open into the bright blue sky,
And the frolicsome winds as they wander by."

Mary Howi

BOSTON:

S. E. CASSINO & COMPANY.

1884.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884,

By J. H. LANGILLE,

In tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

To DR. ELLIOTT COUES,

WHOSE PRINTED WORKS, PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE

AND

GREAT PERSONAL KINDNESS,

HAVE BEEN OF INESTIMABLE VALUE TO ANY SUCCESS
POSSIBLE FOR THIS BOOK,

IT IS

GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY

DEDICATED BY

The Author.

PREFACE.

'T^HE first aim of this work is to render as popular and
attractive as possible, as well as to bring within a
small compass, the sum total of the bird-life of Eastern
North America. I have therefore given brief descriptions,
and for the most part full life histories, of all the species
commonly east of the Mississippi, giving special attention
to the songs and nesting, and dwelling upon the curious
and fascinating, of which there is so much in the lives of
these wonderful creatures. The narrative follows, in the
main, the order of the seasons, and groups itself about
certain interesting localities, as Niagara River and St. Clair
Flats, for instance. I give a good deal of attention to
migration, instinct, the analogy of nidification, the special-
ized forms and adaptations of structure in birds, etc.,
endeavoring particularly to make all this readable. Par-
ticularly do I note the many evidences of a Designing
Intelligence in this department of nature. Hence the

Q PREFACE.

author addresses himself especially to men of his own
profession — the gospel ministry; and would earnestly urge
them to become, as far as possible, the interpreters of
nature as well as of the written word. Thus may they come
most fully into sympathy with the Great Teacher, who
pointed to the " fowls of the air " and the " lilies of the
field " as the most instructive object-lessons of a practical
faith. Let the pastor go w^ith the little ones of his flock
to see the nest of the Oriole in the orchard, or of the
Pewee under the bridge; and he will not only go to the
orchard and to the bridge, but he will find his way into
the little heart. If he cannot become a naturalist, he
may acquire, at least, a general intelligence of natural
objects, thus finding many hours of healthful and happy
recreation, furnishing his own mind with food for thought,
and discovering ready avenues to other minds. In this
day of almost universal thirst for natural science, the
minister can ill afford to be ignorant of the natural world
around him. Happy, indeed, will it be for his ministry
if, instead of leaving the interpretation of nature to the
ungodly and the atheistic, he may show to the people
the thoughts of an infinitely wise and good Creator
embodied in the universe. What is said to the preacher
on this topic may apply also to the Sunday School teacher,
and, indeed, should apply to the secular teacher of every
grade.

PREFACE. 7

The farmers of our country are, for the most part, a
very intelligent class, as the writer well knows from per-
sonal intercourse with them. Many of them might, and
should be, amateur naturalists. This would turn many
an hour of field -labor into a recreation, and could not
fail to be an important aid in the education of their
families. A popular book, giving a pleasing account of
the habits and characters of the birds of the garden,
the orchard, the field and the forest, would be a work of
frequent reference, and might afford many an hour of
leisurely reading in connection with more or less obser-
vation, and thus would be a constant source of pleasure
and profit.

In short, I have tried to meet a wide demand never
yet met in this country — to have a book on birds for every-
body. I write almost entirely from personal observation,
incorporating in my work a full report for Western New
York and the adjoining regions of the Great Lakes, and
a pretty full report for Nova Scotia; also a good deal of
direct information from Hudson's Bay, by means of an
excellent correspondent. This last feature of original
investigation should specially commend the work to the
scientist.

I would here acknowledge the cordial aid received
through correspondence with a large circle of naturalists
and amateurs, whose names appear in different parts of

8 PREFACE.

the work ; and also the great personal kindness in the
way of friendly entertainment, on the part of a large
circle of friends, during many years of travel and inves-
tigation over different parts of the field under review.

The illustrations, which should add much to the character
of the book, have been nearly all furnished by Dr. Coues,
whose scientific nomenclature, as given in his former works,
I have adopted throughout. On this subject, now so much
in distress, I claim no authority; and those wishing the
check-list of the Smithsonian Institution can easily procure

it.

J. H. LANGILLE.

June 26th, 1884.

Buffalo, N. Y.

CHAPTER I.
HOAR-FROST.

IT was early winter. The ground was covered with snow,
but the atmosphere had been laden with a dense falling
mist. The temperature falling below the freezing point,
throughout the night a zephyr-like wind from the north-
east continued to crystallize the moisture on every object,
arraying the landscape in a most magnificent hoar-frost.
The delicate plumose or spinulose ornaments increased every
twig and spear of grass to many times its size. The spray of
trees and shrubs seemed almost as dense as when arrayed in
a young foliage; telegraph wires were as thick as cables;
and the delicate array of spinulose plumes on the evergreens
was of greater magnitude than their own dark covering.
The exquisite delicacy and beauty of the patterns of crystal-
lization were indescribable. The whole landscape was a
charming fairy-land. The genius of a Greek mind might
well have conceived that all the hosts of rural and sylvan
deities had been at work; while, in this inimitable robe of
snow-white purity, the Christian theist might read the
thoughts of Him who is the Author of the beautiful, as well
as of the true and the good.

10 THE HORNED LARK,

THE HORNED LARK.

In the dead calm every object was motionless. Perfect
stillness reigned. The slightest sound was awakening.
What could be more pleasing to the lover of nature at such
a time than the graceful flight and the musical notes of
birds? Ever and anon, small, loose flocks of Horned Larks
{Eremophila alpestris) appeared, alighting in the fields and
along the highway; and they seemed as social and happy as
so many Frenchmen, as they flew, and ran, and squatted,
and hopped, vying with each other in their soft conversa-
tional tseep^ tseepes.

This is one of the most characteristic birds of Western
New York. In Orleans County, and westward, throughout
the year, unless it be in December, there is none which one
is more liable to meet. Though in much smaller flocks, it
may as frequently appear in the snow-storm as the Snow
Bunting, and is much more common in the finer weather of
midwinter than the Goldfinch or the Lesser Redpoll. From
the frozen fields or the frost-clod fence it greets us with its
song already in early February, several weeks before we
hear the soft warble of the Bluebird, or the resonant notes
of the Song Sparrow, and so gives us the first bird-song of
the year. When the earth is soaked and the air is chilled from
the thaws of spring, it is as merry and chipper and full of
song as ever. It is amidst the merry throngs of May, trav-
erses the heated dust of the highway in July and August,
and in the mild, hazy days of Indian summer, gives forth a
respectable echo of its more vigorous song of the breeding
season. Until very recently the breeding habitat of this
species has been wholly consigned to the far north; but it is
now well understood that it breeds abundantly in the lake
counties of Western New York, and more or less to the
eastward as far as Troy, raising two broods, the first being

THE HORNED LARK. 11

very early. Rev. Wm. Elgin, of Rochester, N. Y., a com-
petent observer, writes to me as follows: — ''On the 28th of
April, 1875, I discovered in the Park, near the lake at Buffalo,
the nest of a pair of Horned Larks, containing four young
birds which I took to be at least eight days old. I had
observed the parent birds in that locality early in the
month, and had been watching their movements ever since,
being convinced from their actions, when first noticed, that
they were nesting. But my search was not rewarded till
the day above named. When the parent birds were first
seen, the ground was bare, but about the 10th there fell
several inches of snow, which lay on the ground several
days, during which time the temperature frequently fell
almost to zero. Under these circumstances, it seemed to
me a marvel that any of the eggs hatched, since the bird
must have been sitting while the ground — and in fact her-
self — was covered with snow. Yet the nest was admirably
contrived for this w^eather, being placed in a small basin
scooped out of the level ground, and carefully lined with
fine dried grass, the top being on a level with the surface.
Such a case of nidification certainly argues a marked
degree of hardihood in the species. Another circumstance,
which fell under my observation, would tend also to con-
firm this opinion. On the 7th of April, 1878, near the
village of Wayne, Steuben County, I observed a female
Horned Lark feeding a pair of young in the road; the
young being so far matured as to be able to fly from the
road to the fence, a distance of fully three rods. In this
case the nest must have been begun early in March."

These instances accord with the nests reported as found
near Racine, Wisconsin, while the snow was on the ground.

On the 6th of April, 1880, as I was crossing a meadow a
few days after a snow-fall of some three or four inches, a

12

THE HORNED LARK.

female Horned Lark flew out from under the snow near my
feet. Thrusting my finger carefully through the cold cov-
ering, I touched the eggs, still warm; and picking out care-
fully the snow which had fallen into the nest as the bird
left it, I found four eggs about half incubated. Who would
not be impressed with the fidelity of this bird to her charge,
thus allowing herself to be snowed over, and continuing to
sit, as she no doubt would have done, till she thawed out
again ?

The second set of eggs is laid in June. The full fledged
young are of a mottled gray color, somewhat like the first
plumage of young Screech Owls. The nest is made of
stubble, rootlets, and dried grasses, sometimes having a little
wool or horse-hair in the lining. It is well sunken into the
ground, and is generally a frail, loose and inartistic struct-
ure. The eggs, commonly four, about .88 x .62, are gray-
ish-white, thickly speckled all over with greenish-brown,
having a similar under-marking of pale lilac or purplish-
brown. They cannot be easily mistaken for any other eggs
in this locality.

Mr. James Booth, of Drummondville, Ontario, for over
thirty years a distinguished taxidermist for Niagara Falls,
Buffalo, and the region round about, says that the Horned
Larks did not breed here formerly; that this southern ex-
tension of their breeding habitat is a recent and noticeable
change. With this corresponds the testimony of Mr. T.
Mcllwraith, of Hamilton, Ont.

Audubon found the nests of this species common on the
moss-clad coasts of Labrador. Mr. James Fortiscue, an
excellent correspondent of mine, who is chief factor of the
Hudson's Bay Company at York Factory, reports it as a
summer resident about Hudson's Bay, building its nest " in
grass along the coast."

THE HORNED LARK. 13

The species has been known to breed in Canada West, in
southern Iowa, Indiana, and in the northwest generally, while
one variety is known to breed in New Mexico. This latter
variety is said to be smaller and brighter colored than the
common type, while that of the northwest is larger and
lighter in color. As one approaches the Atlantic States,
the Horned Lark is irregularly migratory in large flocks;
this common type being in no respect different from its
European representative.

Ordinarily the Horned Lark is strictly terrestrial. When
alighted it is most commonly seen resting on the ground
or walking; it is a great walker, maintaining its center of
gravity by a graceful, dove-like motion of the head. Seldom,
if ever, is it seen in a tree, aspiring, when at rest, merely to
the top rail of the fence. It has one trick, however, strangely
in contrast with its ordinary lowliness, and which once
greatly perplexed me. It was a sunny afternoon, late in
May. Hearing its song, now quite familiar to me, I strolled
warily through the open field, hoping to find its nest. But
whence came the song? It was as puzzling as the voice of
a ventriloquist. Now it seemed on the right, and now on
the left, and now in some other direction. Presently I
caught the way of the sound, and lo! its author was soaring
high in air, moving in short curves up, up, singing for a few
moments as it sailed with expanded wings before each
flitting curve upward, till it became a mere speck in the
zenith, and finally I could scarcely tell whether, I saw it
or not. But I still heard the song, one that never can be
mistaken, so unlike is it to that of any other bird. At first
one is at a loss whether to be pleased with it, and is
tempted to compare it to the screaking of an ungreased
wheelbarrow. " Quit^ quit, quit, you silly rig and get away*' it
seems to say: the first three or four syllables being slowly

14 THE HORNED LARK.

and distinctly uttered, and the rest somewhat hurriedly run
together. However, like the faces and voices of certain
people, this ditty sweetens on acquaintance, and finally be-
comes a real source of pleasure.

But I must not be diverting. I am still looking into the
deep blue, when the black speck unmistakably reappears,
and gradually enlarges as the bird approaches. Down,
down it comes, meteor-like, with wings almost closed, until
one fears it will dash out its life on the earth. But no,
it alights in safety, and steps along with all its wonted
stateliness, dividing the time between its luncheon and its
song. Many a time since, and sometimes as early as the last
days of Februar}-^, I have witnessed the same maneuver,
and always with renewed pleasure. So Bayard Taylor is
not mistaken after all, when, in his *^ Spring Pastoral," he
speaks of

" Larks responding aloft to the melloAV flute of the Bluebird."

And though the song of our bird can bear no comparison
to the astounding song-flights of the European Skylark,
their similarity of manner indicates the relationship of the
two species.

In the northwest, on the prairies about the Upper Missouri
and its tributaries, is the Missouri Skylark, so admirably
described by Dr. Coues, and which, in its lofty flight and
great powers of song, seems scarcely if at all second to the
famous bird of the Old World.

The Horned Lark is 7 — 7.50 inches long, somewhat larger
than our ordinary-sized sparrow, its shape being about as
peculiar as its voice. The bill is rather long for a song-
bird, quite pointed, and a little cur\^ed; on its head are tw^o
tufts of erectile black feathers, from which it receives part
of its common name. As in the case of other larks, but
unlike the rest of the song birds, the scales of the leg extend

THE LESSER REDPOLL. 15

around behind; and its hind claw is very long and straight.
This lark is always in a squatting position, with drooping
tail when at rest. With a long, black patch on each cheek,
a somewhat triangular black spot on the upper part of the
breast, reddish light-brown above and dull white beneath,
with yellow throat, long pointed wings tipped with black,
and a tail of the same color, a peculiar undulating flight
often accompanied with a soft tseep or tseepes, whether sitting,
walking, or flying, this bird readily appeals to the eye of the
observer. It was formerly placed in the Fringillidcd family
among the sparrows and their relatives, but now stands with
a Lark family, formed by later ornithologists. In the main,
it is a seed-eating species, but also subsists largely on in-
sects.

THE LESSER REDPOLL.

On this same day of indescribably beautiful hoar-frost my
garden was visited by an immense flock of birds, common
throughout New England and the Middle States during
winter, but resident in the more northern climes in summer.
They came in a cloud, the graceful curves of their undulating
flight intersecting each other at all angles, while here and
there one seemed to be describing unusually long, sweeping
curves amidst the dense moving mass, as if throwing out a
challenge to its more moderate companions. Cree-cree-cree-
cree, s/wee-shree-shree-shree, coming in soft, lisping voices fnDm
hundreds of little throats, at once swells into a grand volume
of sound, which indicates that nearly all are taking part in
the animated conversation. They alight indiscriminately
on trees, shrubs, and w^eeds, and also on the ground, and
begin their search for food. Taking alarm readily, they
resort to the leafless tree-tops in the vicinity, or, rising high,
they leave the spot. This is decidedly our most beauti-
ful bird of the winter. About the size of a canary, 5-5.50

16 THE LESSER REDPOLL.

and 8.50 in extent, the general color of the upper parts is
a rich dark brown, every feather being delicately fringed
with grayish white; around the base of the bill and extend-
ing down the throat is a band of dusky black; the top of the
head is bright glossy crimson; on the lower part of the
back, where the feathers are so deeply fringed with white
that the brown almost disappears, there is a slight touch of
carmine; and in the mature male the breast and under parts,
which are ordinarily white streaked with brown on the sides,
are finely tinged with rose-color. How these delicate tints
of rose and carmine set off the winter landscape, appearing
as gay as peach-blossoms in the leafless brown of early
spring. Redpoll is a member of the same family with the
sparrows {xho. FringillidcE). From its noticeable resemblance
to them and its delicately-tinted breast, it is sometimes
called the Rose-breasted Sparrow, but is commonly known
as the Lesser Redpoll. Dr. Coues gives the habitat of the
Redpoll {^-Egiot/ms linarid)^ "From Atlantic to Pacific,
ranging irregularl}'- southward in flocks in winter, to the
Middle States (sometimes a little beyond) and corresponding
latitudes in the west." As to its breeding, he cites Audu-
bon, who says that it breeds "in Maine, Nova Scotia, New-
foundland, Labrador and the fur countries." The latter
also describes the eggs as from four to six in number,
measuring five-eighths of an inch in length, rather more than
half an inch in diameter, and pale bluish-green in color,
sparingly dotted with reddish-brown toward the larger end.
Mr. C. O. Tracy, of Taftsville, Vt., says in the Ornithol-
ogist and Oologist, June, 1883: "The last of March, 1878, I
found the nest and eggs of this species. The nest, now
before me, is composed of fine, dry twigs, dried grasses,
fine strips of fibrous bark, bits of twine, hair, fibrous roots,
moss, dried leaves, pieces of cocoons, feathers, thistle-down,

THE CHICKADEE,

17

and other material, which are neatly woven together into a
compact structure and lined with hair. It was placed very
loosely among the top branches of a small spruce, about six
feet from the ground, and contained three fresh eggs of a
very "pale bluish-green color, sparingly marked with spots
and splashes of different shades of brown at the larger end.
Dimensions, 72 X 48, 72 X 47, 71 X 48."

I once saw several of these birds which Mr. Bing of
Rochester had trapped and trained. One had a soft belt
around his body, under his wings, to which was fastened a
small chain and a bucket about as big as a thimble, with
which he drew water out of a deep dish, and drank.
Another had a tiny car on a platform outside the cage; and
as this little vehicle was fastened to the inside of the cage
by a chain and contained his food, he would draw it in
whenever he wished a repast. Even after witnessing all
this, I felt that, to me, the bird was but a stranger, for I
had never heard its song nor seen its nest. A closely allied
species or variety is found in Europe. The so-called Mealy
Redpoll may be regarded as a paler variety of the common
Redpoll — an Arctic race, not difficult to recognize, repre-
senting in America the true Mealy Redpoll {A. canescens)
of Greenland. The broad, whitish fringe of the plumage,
the elegant rose-white rump, and the pale, rosy breast give
a peculiar delicate beauty to this variety.

THE CHICKADEE.

I have finished my morning ramble, and am fairly seated in
my study, when lo ! a familiar voice calls me to the window.
Chickadee-dce-dce, chick, chick, chickadee, chickadee-dee-dee-dee ;
most cheerful and winning voice of a winter's day ! There
they are, little Black-capped Titmice or Chickadees, finding
a satisfactory repast in those frosted evergreens, where my

18 THE CHICK'ADEE.

eyes can detect nothing of the kind; standing upright,
tipping forward, stretching upward, leaning to right and
left, or hanging by the feet ; so brimful of contentment,
so sweet-spirited and confiding, with so much of the sun-
shine of hope in their voices, that they are a most signifi-
cant reproof to querulous, unsatisfied human nature.

Those above given are far from being the only notes of
the Black-capped Chickadee {Farus atricapillus), if they
have christened him. They seem to be especially his win-
ter song, whether he be in the door-yard, in the deep
forest, or in the crowded town; and the same vocal per-
formance can hardly be said to characterize him in summer,
though it is then occasionally heard. Throughout the year,
but especially in the breeding season, he has many quaint
little notes, sounding very much like subdued and familiar
conversation. Tse-de-yay, tse-de-yay; tsip, tsip; and a soft,
almost indescribable, peep, peep, are among his common
utterances in secluded parts of the deep forest. How
much of the happy, inner life of these little creatures may
be communicated in these soft, musical phrases ! But that
which pre-eminently constitutes the song of the Chickadee
is a soft, elfin whistle of two notes, heard occasionally even
in midwinter, but most commonly in the breeding season
— Whce-hee. The former syllable is in the rising and the
latter in the falling inflection; the whole being uttered in a
soft, plaintive, tremulous, melting tone, which almost re-
strains one's breath while listening. It is the voice of
pathethic tenderness, and makes one feel how much of
conscious life may vibrate in the breast of a tiny bird.

Long years did I wait after becoming an ornithologist
before I could get a glimpse of the nest of the Chickadee.
On a beautiful, sunny 24th of May, in a thicket of Tona-
wanda Swamp, while I was studying the song of the Black-

THE CHICKADEE, I9

throated Green Warbler, a Chickadee dropped into the side
of an old stump, just a few feet before me. The hole
which it entered was near the top, about two feet and a
half from the ground; and as the stump was mellow, it
was not many mi-nutes before I had sufficiently enlarged
the passage with my jack-knife to get a good view of the
inside. I have often felt the subduing influence of the
familiar, trustful ways of this little bird, but never did it
seem so gentle and confiding as now, peering up at me with
such a mingled look of surprise and firmness, which, to say
the least, was very disconcerting to an oologist. The exca-
vation was new, and evidently made by the bird itself. The
nest consisted of a loose but well-made felt of moss, fibres
of bark, down and hair. For safety and softness few nests
could surpass it. The seven eggs were a little smaller than
those of the common Wren, some ,64 x .51, of a delicate,
flesh-tinted white, minutely dotted with red, the marks
thickening and running together at the large end. In all
respects this nest is representative. The nesting of any
bird, however, is subject to variation. Sometimes the
Chickadee makes its own excavation in a green tree, and
sometimes it appropriates the abandoned nest of the Downy
Woodpecker. It feeds especially on the larvae and eggs of
insects.

About the size of a canary, some 5-5,25 long, and 7.75-8.25
in extent, its bill is short, somewhat thick, straight and
strong; its head is large and its neck short, body plump
and tail longish; it is deep, glossy black on the head, down
the back of the neck and on the throat; cheeks pure white;
upper parts dark drab, much lighter and yellowish on the
rump; and of the same color, or somewhat lighter, under-
neath. These markings are strongly contrasted, and render
the bird a conspicuous object at any time of year; but at

20 THE PINE GROSBEAK.

no time is one so forcibl}' impressed with the beauty, as
also with the familiarity, of this gentle little creature as
when meeting it in the depth of the forest on a bleak win-
ter's day. Then the flock appear like bright and gracefully
moving ornaments on the dark evergreens or leafless spray.
Then this bird becomes the familiar companion of the soli-
tary woodman, and will even venture to light on his arm
and take from his hand the crumbs of his luncheon.

The Chickadee belongs to the Titmouse or Faridai. family,
and has many near relatives, such as the Mountain Chicka-
dee, Chestnut-back Chickadee, Long-tailed Chickadee, etc.,
which resemble it very closely. Our species is a bird of the
Northeastern States, extending to Alaska, replaced from
Maryland and Illinois southward by the Carolina Titmouse,
which Mr. Maynard regards as simply a smaller variety of
the same species. About the size of our Black-cap, and in
all respects similiar in habit, is the Hudson's Bay Titmouse
{Parus hudsonius). The jet black on the crown of the
former is replaced by an elegant brown; the pure white on
the cheeks by a grayish white; the back and sides are also
tinged with brown; otherwise, their similarity in marking is
close. Hudsonius is common to British North America,
breeding as far south as Maine. I found it very common
in Nova Scotia. Its strongly characterized note cheet-a-day-
day-day^ cheet-a-day, uttered in a rather low key, may always
distinguish it.

THE PINE GROSBEAK.

As I go out through the front yard during the forenoon, I
almost run my head into a flock of Pine Grosbeaks {Pinicola
enucleato?'), feeding eagerly on the berries of a mountain ash.
The hoar-frost falls in a cloud as a dozen or more of them
shake the spray and the branches in taking their food.
About 8.50 in length, this species is very robust and plump,

THE PINE GROSBEAK,

21

with a short, thick, almost hawk-hke bill, and the tail
slightly notched. The general color of the old male is
bright crimson-red, the feathers, especially on the back.

THE PINE GROSBEAK.

showing elegant centers of dusky ash; the lores, the sides
of the head and body, and the under tail coverts, ashy; two
bands on the wing coverts, white; wings and tail, dusky.
Female and young, ashy, variously marked or tinged with
greenish yellow or light golden brown on the crown and
rump, or even over the back and breast. As the male is no
doubt several years in reaching his bright colors of matu-
rity, nearly all the individuals visiting us in winter are
ashy. To the naturalist and artist the old males are a great
desideratum. Scarcely can the southern climes send us a
more brilliant migrant than this casual visitor from the
north. Immature specimens m.ay arrive in New England
and the Middle States, already in the wake of Indian Sum-
mer, but only in severe winters are they common. Then
the flocks of 10-20 may contain quite a sprinkling of the

22 THE DOWNY WOODPECKER.

brilliant old males, and occasionally this species may extend
its winter flight as far south as Maryland, Ohio, Illinois and
Kansas.

As I fire into the flock in the mountain ash, they scatter
into the surrounding trees, loth to fly away, and emit a
loud and prolonged pccnk^ sounding almost like the note of
a hawk. Its song is said to be a pleasing warble. It breeds
from northern Maine and the Maritime Provinces north-
ward, being common about Moose Factory on James' Ba}^
and down the Rocky Mountains into Colorado. The nest,
placed in trees, is made of sticks and grasses, and contains
3-4 eggs, oval, about .97 X .V2, "pale bluish-green in color,
spotted, dotted, and lined with brown and umber."

THE DOWNY WOODPECKER.

I was never naturally fond of a gun. But for the emer-
gencies of natural history I should never have used much
powder and shot; but I cannot, like Thoreau, become a nat-
uralist without either gun or trap. He must have been on
remarkably good terms with the inhabitants of the woods
and the fields.

In the afternoon of this same day of the hoar-frost, I spied
a Downy Woodpecker pounding away at a beautiful moun-
tain ash in the front yard. Of course he would not hurt
the tree, but I was tempted to get the bird; so, notwithstand-
ing my poor marksmanship, I started with an old shot-gun
to procure the specimen. As usual, the bird was very
unsuspecting, and allowed me to come quite near. I fired,
but, to my surprise, the bird flew to the next tree, appar-
ently without the least surprise. I loaded and fired again,
but without securing my specimen, and, it would seem,
without even alarming him. Again I fired, and again and
again, and yet the bird seemed as safe and self-possessed

THE DOWNY WOODPECKER. 23

about the yard as before the first shot. I felt assured the
bird's time of departure was not yet come, and so conchided
to do without it. But as I afterward became more success-
ful with a gun, and consequently got Downy in my hand
for a careful examination (and to an ornithologist a bird in
the hand is worth a good many in the bush), I will give at
least a brief account of him. And first I may say that, con-
cerning all the Woodpeckers, an account of the habits of one
comes very near being an account of them all.

Concerning their nests Mr. John Burroughs has well said:
^'The Woodpeckers all build in about the same manner,
excavating the trunk or branch of a decayed tree and deposit-
ing the eggs on the fine fragments of wood at the bottom of
the cavity. Though the nest is not especially an artistic
work — requiring strength rather than skill — yet the eggs and
the young of few other birds are so completely housed from
the elements — or protected from their natural enemies, the
jays, crows, hawks and owls. A tree with a natural cavity
is never selected, but one which has been dead just long
enough to have become soft and brittle throughout.* The
bird goes in horizontally for a few inches, making a hole
perfectly round and smooth and adapted to his size, then
turns downward, gradually enlarging the hole, as he pro-
ceeds, to the depth of ten, fifteen, twenty inches, according
•to the softness of the tree and the urgency of the mother-
bird to deposit her eggs. While excavating, male and female
work alternately. After one has been engaged fifteen or
twenty minutes, drilling and carrying out chips, it ascends
to an upper limb, utters a loud call or two, when its mate
soon appears, and, alighting near it on the branch, the pair
chatter and caress a moment, then the fresh one enters the
cavity, and the other flies away."

* Living trees of the softer kind are often eligible.

24 THE DOWNY WOODPECKER.

In these same cavities they continue to take lodgings by
night, or take refuge in bad weather, thus making these, as
well as natural cavities in trees and stubs, places of conven-
ient shelter.

The strongly characterized eggs of the Woodpeckers, with
smooth, glossy, translucent shell, and of the purest white,
are very gems in oology. Are they white in order that the
bird may readily see them as it enters its dusky chamber?
What a Spartan-like bed are those few chips on which the
young are reared! Indeed, everything about the Wood-
pecker indicates hardihood and industry. He is a moral
object-lesson to the self-indulgent and indolent.

As Wilson has truly suggested — having no vocal power to
charm — the Woodpeckers occupy the honorable position of
carpenters among the birds.* For this purpose their struct-
ure is most admirably adapted. Held in position by means
of large, strong feet, having two toes turned forward and
two backward, and by a tail having every feather stiff and
pointed; with a strong, chisel-shaped bill, skull-bones of
unusual size and strength, and a neck which works like a
lever, they can do marvelous execution. The tongue —
elastic, barbed, viscid, and the back part or hyoid bone
being coiled up like the mainspring of a watch, and in
every way adapted to the seizure of insects — was well chosen
by Paley as a striking evidence of design in creation. And
the ornithologist, observing how the bird chooses the dead
trees and those dying from the destructive effect of insects
as the objects of its workmanship, will readily confirm, from
the study of habit, what the anatomist infers from structure.

Closing the wings and gliding through the air after sev-
eral vigorous strokes, the flight of the Woodpeckers is undu-
lating; and, just before lighting, they glide upwards a few

* Carpentero is the ordinary name of the Woodpecker among the Mexicans.

THE DOWNY WOODPECKER. 25

feet to check their direct momentum. CHnging to the bark
of the trunk or larger limbs of the trees with their sharp,
hooked claws, and using the peculiar feathers of the tail as
a support, they hop upward or sidewise, or drop backward,
but do not move with the head downward, after the manner
of the Nuthatches. They often take insects on the wing,
and relish the smaller fruits; but their principal fare consists
of insects and their eggs and larvae as found in the bark or
crevices, or as excavated and drawn out from decaying or
damaged trees.

Now, from the general to the particular. The Downy
Woodpecker (Ficus pubescens)^ 6.75 and 12.00 in extent, is the
dwarf of his family, and, in color and marking, is almost pre-
cisely like his nearest relative, the Hairy Woodpecker. His
small size alone may distinguish him from all other Wood-
peckers in this locality. The top of the head, the cheeks,
the back of the neck, both sides of the back, the wings and
central feathers of the tail are jet black. A stripe running
back over each eye, and one extending back from under
each eye and up the sides of the neck, the middle of the
back, regular transverse rows of round spots in the wings,
and three feathers on each side of the tail are white, the
latter being spotted with black. The under parts are of a
grayish white, and the male is marked with carmine on the
sides of the hind head. Like those of all the rest of the
family, the eggs of this little species, some 85 X-62, are pure
white. As is common with Woodpeckers, both sexes take
part in incubation. The Downy Woodpecker is particu-
larly fond of orchards and such arboreal accommodations
as may be found in the vicinity of the abode of man. Its
note, chick, chick, is cheerful, and suggestive of contentment
and self-satisfaction, and, like the notes of the Woodpeckers
in general, expresses a vigorous energy. It is resident

j^HE DOWNY WOODPECKER.
throughout Eastern North America, and northwestward to
Alaska, being represented west of the Roclcy Mountams by
Gairdner's Woodpecker.

CHAPTER II.

SNOWED IN.

WHAT is more romantic, in this our northern clime than a
heavy snow-storm ? What wonder that one of our most
distinguished American poets could elaborate a charming
poem under the title, "Snow-bound." What can be more
suggestive of purity, more symbolic of a clean sheet on
which to begin a new chapter in life, than the mantle of
snow which shrouds the landscape about the beginning of
our solar year ?

" No cloud above, no earth below —
A universe of sky and snow."

Then the snow-flakes ! What wonders of beauty they are I
Unity in variety is the law of their forms of delicate beauty.
Always star-like, with just six rays or main points, they
seem to include every variety of detail on this plan, from
the perfectly plain six-rayed star to the most elaborate
plumose flower conceivable. Every mineral having its in-
variable angle of crystallization — and snow and ice belong
to the mineral kingdom — water, in consolidating, shoots
forth its angles at precisely 60° — a fact which the merest
fragment of a snow-flake will reveal. It is only under cer-
tain circumstances that they can be seen to advantage. If
they pass through a stratum of air too mild to keep them
below the freezing point, they blend, and appear like pellets
of white lint; if there is much wind, they are broken into

28

THE SNOW BUNTING.

fine particles. When they fall rightly, examine them on
3'our coat-sleeve under a magnifying glass, and you will
find them to be among the most perfect of nature's mar-
velous workmanship.

THE SNOW BUNTING.

A cold, gray, midwinter day had been followed by a quiet
snow-fall of many inches, which, perfectly undisturbed, lay
in a huge, evenly-distributed pile over the entire landscape.

THE SNOW BUNTING.

From the dried mullein-stalk, standing in the fence-corner,
to the heavy forest, the form of every object was changed,
was rendered fantastic and ghost-like, in this universal
shroud of pure white. Now the flakes were unusually
large and elaborate; for, be it remembered, nearly every
snow-storm affords a new pattern of the flake. On the
bright morning which followed, while the whole earth gave
back the grateful rays of the sun in countless tiny stars of
dazzling scintillation, I was just in the act of dipping up a
handful of the fleecy snow in absorbing admiration, when
lo ! an immense cloud, nearly as white as the sno\y itself,

THE SNOW BUNTING.

29

swept over my head, and dropped down into a field a few
rods beyond. But this cloud of Snow-flakes — for so the
Snow Buntings are sometimes called — was musical, filling-
the air with a soft warbling chipper as they flew, and keep-
ing up the same notes after they had alighted. How their
predominance of white harmonizes with the snow on which
they hop and skip and flutter ! while the patches and mot-
tlings of yellowish ocher and black, so varied in size and
form in different individuals, remind one of the autumnal
earth-colors just beneath the whitened landscape. They
seem to take delight in the snow and in the cold. Indeed,
this hardy, happy little bird is the true herald of snow,
seeming to keep ever on the line, or a little in advance, of
the snow-storm, and generally in large flocks. As the winter
is setting in, one may stand on the south of our great Lake
Ontario and see them coming across by the thousand, their
rear outline being skirted by the various smaller Hawks,
moving southward at the same time, and foraging as
they go.

Their sprightly movement when on the ground, the zest
with which they feed on the seeds of weeds and grasses,
cannot but give one the impression of good cheer and
plenty on the most inclement winter's day. Impressed with
the utility of even the weeds, in the nice adjustment of the
economy of nature, and with the confident air of these birds
seeking their daily food, one cannot but recall the words of
the Great Teacher: " Behold the fowls of the air; for they
sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet
your Heavenly Father feedeth them."

The birds are not idle, indeed. They accomplish a great
mission. A single year without their labors would be fol-
lowed by a degree of disaster inconceivable, perhaps by a
famine. We learn " that in the early times of the American

30 THE LAPLAND LONG SPUR.

colonies the farmers of New England offered threepence a
head for the Crow Blackbirds, on account of their destruct-
iveness in the grain fields. Consequently they were nearly
extirpated for a time, and the insects increased to such a
degree as to cause a total loss of herbage, and the farmers
were compelled to obtain hay from Pennsylvania, and even
from Great Britain." But the birds can do nothing what-
ever to provide their own food. Yet when are they seen
starving or wanting sustenance?

The cloud of Snow-flakes, having taken sudden alarm, are
risen high in air. What graceful gyrations and evolutions !
and how the pure white of their under parts fairly gleams
against the clear ether. Must not that soft, musical chatter
be an intelligible conversation among themselves ? Never
did minds communicate in happier tones.

The nest of this bird was once found in New Hampshire,
on a slope of the White Mountains, " on the ground among
low bushes, and formed like that of the Song Sparrow." It
contained young. Another is reported, even from Spring-
field, Massachusetts. The ordinary breeding place of the
Snow Bunting, however, is in the Arctic regions, where it is
said to spend the summer in great numbers. It now
becomes a bird of accomplished song, building a sub-
stantial nest on the ground and in the clefts of rock, lined
with feathers and the hair of the Arctic fox. The eggs,
.90 X-65, are whitish, mottled with brown, especially around
the larger end, where the blotches sometimes become a
dark wreath. The species is common to the higher latitudes
of the whole northern hemisphere.

THE LAPLAND LOXGSPUR.

In Western New York, the sunshine of early winter is
very fickle. In a few hours the clearest sky may be robed

THE LAPLAND LONG SPUR. 31

in the dark-leaden clouds so peculiar to that season; and
when, perchance, the sun breaks through, they may be
fringed with a rich amber, quite uncommon at other seasons
of the year. On this morning after the snow-fall, the sun-
shine left almost as suddenly as the Snow Buntings, and
with the leaden clouds appeared another flock, equally
large, and so similar in size, form and movement that one
might readily think them the same were it not for the pre-
dominance of the dark colors. They are as dark as the
sparrows; the black and ocher, so common to the Snow
Buntings, making up the entire dress, except the white
underneath and on the sides of the neck; while the breast,
cheeks and sides under the wings are ornamented with
rich, black feathers, delicately tipped with white. Thus the
careful observer will readily distinguish them as the Lap-
land Longspurs {Plectrophanes lapponicus)^ and quite different
from the Snow Buntings (Plectrophanes ?iivalis), of the
white dress, dark-ocher patch on the head lighter patches
of the same on the ears, as also a tendency of the same, in
the form of a collar low on the breast, black mixed with
the same on the back, black in the center of the tail, upper
wing-feathers and wing-tips.

The Lapland Longspur spends the breeding season in
large numbers about Great Slave Lake, McKenzie's River,
and in Alaska, arriving in the latter place the second week
in May. At this time of year it is said to be an eminent
songster. Dr. Coues describes the nidification as follows:
"The eggs are rather pointed at the smaller end, and
measure about 0.80 x 0.62. They are very dark colored,
reminding one of the Titlark's; the color is a heavy cloud-
ing or thick mottling of chocolate-brown, through which
the greenish-gray ground is little apparent. The nests are
built of mosses and fine, soft, dried grasses, and lined with

32 THE HAIRY WOODPECKER.

a few large feathers from some water-fowl; they were
placed on the ground, under tussocks, in grassy hummocks.
The female did not leave the nest until nearly trodden upon."
Like the former, this bird occupies the Arctic regions of
both continents, migrating southward in winter, even to
warm-temperate latitudes, though the Longspur is not com-
mon even then in this locality, and is not yet reported west
of the Rocky Mountains.

THE HAIRY WOODPECKER.

^'' Fifnp ! punp ! pimp ! '' with a sharp, metallic ring. Who
does not know the voice of the Hairy Woodpecker? — sim-
ilar, somewhat, and yet very unlike that of other members
of the family. Its vigorous and incisive tones are asso-
ciated with the sounds of my childhood. Well do I remem-
ber its nest, commonly chiseled out of the American aspen,
so soft and brittle, the nest being made in a large, living
tree, and many feet from the ground. What gems were the
ovate, smooth eggs, some .98 x •'^2, of translucent white; and
how hard it seemed for the tender, unfledged young to lie
on a mere bed of chips ! Certain it is, however, that what
may be lacking in luxury is made up in safety. What Blue
Jay, Crow, Hawk or Owl would think of putting its head
into that small, neat, round doorway ? Even a Raccoon
would fare no better than Reynard, when the fabled Stork
invited him to dinner; and what snake would think of
wriggling up that straight and limbless trunk, some thirty
feet or upwards ? The male, moreover, is a very hero in
defense of its nest, flying angrily from tree to tree in the
immediate vicinity when it is disturbed, and uttering an
almost deafening racket of rage.

The Hairy Woodpecker {Picus villosus) is 8.50-9.00 in
length, plumage soft and blended on the back, appearing

THE SHORT-EARED OWL. 33

more like hair than feathers; head, back of the neck, sides
of the back, wings and central tail-feathers, black; stripe
above and below the eye, the lower extending up the side
of the neck, stripe down the middle of the back, side feathers
of the tail, under parts and round spots in rows across
the wings, white; the male having two bright red spots in
the white stripes on the back of the head. Habitat, all
eastern North America, reaching through Alaska, northwest;
replaced by a variety called Harris' Woodpecker, beyond
the Rocky Mountains.

THE SHORT-EARED OWL.

It is the dusk of twilight. How strong is the contrast
between the snow-clad earth and the leaden, almost inky,
sky! What bird is that flying low by the barn-yarn fence?
It has alighted. Quickly as possible I get my shot-gun and
creep around behind the barn. Meanwhile, a second has
alighted by the side of the first. Probably they are male
and female. I take aim, and over topples one of the birds,
while the other spreads its noiseless wings and flies away.

On picking up my specimen I find it to be the Short-eared
Owl {Brachyoius palustris). Palustris means pertaining to
the swamp or marsh, and is very properly applied to this
species, as we shall presently see. From fourteen to fifteen
inches long, light reddish brown, lighter beneath, upper
parts thickly streaked with blackish-brown, lower parts
more finely streaked with the same, face whitish, with black
circles around the eyes, tail buff, legs a lighter shade of the
same color, ear-tufts scarcely noticeable, this bird is very
readily identified, for it is quite unlike any other Owl of this
locality.

The Short-eared Owl breeds commonly in the salt-marshes
along the Atlantic and in marshy places in the interior,
3

34 THE SHORT-EARED OWL.

making its nest on the ground, sometimes of very slight
construction, laying some four or five roundish dull-white
eggs, 1.50 X l-'^O. Professor W. D. Scott, of Princeton, found
it around the inlet of Barnagat Bay, as a sort of counterpart
of the Marsh Hawk, scouring the marshes by night, while
the latter took its place in day-time, also breeding in the
same locality and on the ground. According to Dall, the
Short-eared Owl sometimes breeds in burrows. It seems to
be common to Europe, Asia, Greenland, America and the
West Indies.

Sometimes found in the woods, but generally adhering to
swamps and marshes, this species is wont to rest on the
ground during the day, and if startled flies up in a hurried
and "zigzag" manner, "as if suddenly awakened from
sound sleep," and sailing along rather low, drops down out
of sight again. Mr. W. Brewster found these Owls preying
upon the Terns on Muskegat Island. " A small colony of
these birds had established itself upon a certain elevated
part of the island, spending the day in a tract of densely-
matted grass. Scattered about in this retreat w^ere the
remains of at least a hundred Terns that they had killed
and eaten. Many of these were fresh, while others were in
every stage of decomposition, or dried by the sun and wind.
In each case the breast had been picked clean, but in no
instance was any other portion disturbed. Every day, at a
certain time, these Owls sallied forth in search of fresh prey.
We used regularly to see them about sunset, sailing in cir-
cles over the island or beating along the crests of the sand-
hills. They were invariably followed by vast mobs of
enraged Terns, which dived angrily down over the spot
where the Owl had alighted, or strung out in the wake of
its flight like the tail of a comet. The Owl commonly paid
little attention to this unbidden following, and apparently

THE LONG-EARED OWL. 35

never tried to seize its persecutors while on the wing, but
on several occasions we saw a sitting bird pounced upon
and borne off. Sometimes in the middle of the night a great
outcry among the Terns told when a tragedy was being
enacted."

Like the rest of the Owls, the Short-ear is for the most
part a bird of the night; and it feeds especially on mice and
moles.

THE LONG-EARED OWL

{Otus vulgaris var. wilsonianus) is a common resident in the
swamps and dense evergreen woods, but is nowhere abund-
ant in Western New York. About the size of the former, it
is readily distinguishable by its long ear-like tufts of 8-12
feathers, situated on the top of the head like the ears of a
cat, and by its darker color; dark brown, mixed with fulvous
and finely specked with white, above; white, lined and
crossed with light-brown, below; facial disks and feet, fulv-
ous; narrow ring around the eye, black. This variety of the
European species {vulgaris) is of rather southern habitat,
stretching across the continent, and, perhaps, barely extend-
ing into New England. It breeds abundantly in Eastern
Pennsylvania, its nest, placed in trees or possibly on the
ground, being "usually constructed of rude sticks, sometimes
of boughs with the leaves adherent thereto, externally, and
generally, but not always, lined with the feathers of birds."
The same nest is used for a succession of years, and it is the
testimony of both Wilson and Audubon, as also of Buffon,
in respect to the European variety, that the deserted nests
of other birds are appropriated and repaired. The eggs,
commonly four, about 1.50 X 1.35, are roundish and white,
after the manner of Owls. In common with its class,
the food of this species is small birds and reptiles and
insects.

3g THE SCREECH OWL.

THE SCREECH OWL.

After a few days the weather grew intensely cold, the
thermometer running ten degrees below zero. Making a
professional visit on one of these bitter days, as I drove

^.

THE SCREECH OWL.

into the barn-yard to unharness my horse, I noticed the
result of quite a little tragedy in the animal kingdom.
Some fifteen feet up the side of the barn hung a Screech
Owl [Scops asio), caught by one foot under a large batten
partly sprung off from the building. It was frozen stiff, its
eyes standing out white and ghastly with the expansion of
the frost; and just above it, seemingly caught under the
same batten, and frozen in like manner, was a common

THE SCREECH OWL. 37

mouse; thus both had been turned into ice in the very act
of the chase.

This bird is abundant here throughout the 3^ear, but is
more noticeable in winter, as it then approaches the barn
and the out-buildings, probably in search of food and shelter.
In late summer and early autumn it may be heard about
the orchard or the edge of the wood; in the evening, uttering a
soft whinny, not at all to be compared, however, to ^^screech-
ing.'' Thoreau, describing the sounds within hearing of his hut
at Walden Lake, gives special prominence to the vocal per-
formance of this bird. He says: "It is no honest and blunt ///-
wJiit, tu-who of the poets, but, without jesting, a most solemn,
graveyard ditty, the mutual consolations of suicide lovers
remembering the pangs and the delights of supernal love in
the infernal groves. Yet I love to hear their wailing, their
doleful responses, trilled along the road-side, reminding me
sometimes of music and singing birds; as if it were the
dark and tearful side of music, the regrets and sighs that
would feign be sung. They are the spirits, the low spirits
and melancholy forebodings of fallen souls that once in
human shape night-walked the earth and did the deeds of
darkness, now expiating their sins with their wailing hymns
or threnodies in the scenery of their transgressions. They
give me a new sense of the variety and capacity of that
nature which is our common dwelling. Oh-o-o-o-o that I
never had been bor-r-r-r-r-n ! sighs one on this side of the
pond, and circles with the restlessness of despair to some
new perch on the gray oaks. Then — that I never had been
bor-r-r-r-n I echoes another on the further side with tremu-
lous sincerity, and bor-r-r-r-n ! comes faintly from far in
Lincoln woods."

About nine inches long, with large ear-tufts, ash-gray
above, with a lighter shade of the same beneath, all

38 THE SCREECH OWL.

over mottled and streaked with black, the black streaks
beneath again crossed with black and accompanied with
reddish tints, white markings on the shoulders — sometimes
the general ash-gray above mentioned being entirely re-
placed by reddish; this bird can never be mistaken. H. D.
Minot says: "The eggs are laid in the hollow of a tree, an
apple-tree being frequently selected, in which are often
placed a few simple materials, such as leaves or dried grass.
The eggs, of which four are laid about the middle of April,
average 1.35 X 1-20 of an inch, though occasionally speci-
mens measure 1.50 x l-^O of an inch. They are white, and
nearly spherical." The almost round, white eggs, generally
pure white and about equal at both ends, and with a fine
surface, are characteristic of the Owls.

Mr. W. Perham (at Tyngsboro, Mass.) often secures the
nest of this species by fastening on trees in the woods
" sections of hollow trunks, boarded up at the open ends,
with entrance-holes cut in the sides," the bird appropriating
these instead of natural cavities or deserted Woodpeckers'
nests, "both as roosting and nesting places."

As with the Owls in general, this species, w^hen in the
down, is pure white. Being very small, excepting the bill
and feet, it might be mistaken for a little white Bantam
Chicken. A pretty sight, indeed, is this snow-white brood
of little creatures, in a hole of some old apple-tree, in the
thick, shadowy part of the orchard, or in some partially
decayed tree in the edge of a dense woods.

On one of the last days of May (1880), I was surprised,
while passing through the woods, by something which
seemed to me at first sight a large bunch of gray wool on
a limb some fifteen feet from the ground, but which, on
closer examination, proved to be four young Screech Owls,
nearly full-grown, well fledged, and sitting so closely to-

THE ACADIAN OWL. 39

gether, and so perfectly still, as to require quite an effort
to define them to the eye. They were a weird sight.
The plumage was soft and downy, the color cold gray, thus
refuting the theory that the red garb, in which this bird is
often found, is the immature dress. The same species seems
to be sometimes red, and sometimes gray, independent of
age or sex.

In the latter part of June, the same year, on entering the
woods at late twilight, a bird flew at my head, uttering a
hoarse, guttural scream, followed by a sharp snapping of
the bill. It proved to be a Screech Owl, probably a parent
bird, with young near by.

Including a number of varieties, this Owl inhabits North
America at large.

THE ACADIAN OWL.

The Acadian Owl {Nyctale acadica) or Saw-whet, as it is
sometimes called, from its peculiar, rasping note, sounding
like the filing of a saw, is not infrequently found here; but
is, apparently, not nearly so common as Scops asio. It
must breed here, as it is resident, and I have seen the young
taken in Orleans County. The male of this pigmy of its
race averages some 7.25, length; some 19.50 in extent. The
female is about an inch longer, and every way larger in pro-
portion. With head proportionately large, round, untufted,
and facial disks complete, the adult is fine, clear brown
above, scapulars and wing coverts marked with white, and
an under-surface ring of the same around the back of the
head; outside and inside web of primaries, and inside web
of the secondaries, white-spotted; tail tipped with white,
and having several cross-lines of spots of same; space
around the bill generally, and above and below the eye,
white or yellowish-white; top of the head, auriculars and
sides of neck streaked with white; and clear white arcs

40

THE WAX- WING.

back of the ears; under parts white, broadly streaked with
reddish-brown. Young, more generally dark brov/n, un-
spotted, with clear white forehead and eye-brows, and clear,
light reddish-brown under parts. Slyly nesting in the hole
of a tree, the nearly round, pure white eggs of this species
are 1.22 X .96. They are laid in April, and the newly-
hatched young are covered with a reddish down. This
pigmy must have a good appetite, for, not long since, an
individual was taken in N. J., the stomach of which " con-
tained a whole Flying-squirrel." Habitat, North America;
most common, perhaps, in the latitudes of New England
and Nova Scotia.

THE WAX-WING.

What a beautiful figure in the winter landscape is that
mountain ash in the front yard! — only it is no ash at all.

THE WAX-WING.

but a member of the Rose family. Symmetrical and grace-
ful, its dark-brown colored spray, beautifully relieved by the

THE PINE LINNET. 4X

great scarlet clusters of persistent fruit, it is a constant source
of pleasure to the eye. But oh! see it now! fairly bending
under the weight of an immense flock of Wax-wings {Ampelis
garrulus). The whole tree-top seems alive with their flutter-
ing motion, as they keep up a soft but spirited chipper, half-
way between a whisper and a whistle, and gobble up the
berries with the gusto of extreme hunger. How beautiful
they are! The form is fine, and it has an elegant crest; gen-
eral color, a brownish drab, approaching ash-gray over the
back, and chestnut around the base of the lofty crest, and
around the margin of the deep black passing horizontally
across the forehead across and above the eyes and forming
a large patch on the throat; under tail coverts chestnut;
wings and tail blackish, the latter shading most beautifully
into dark ash toward the base; streak at the base of the
lower mandible and one under the eye; tips of primary wing
coverts and outer terminal web of the secondaries, white;
the latter with waxen appendages on the quills; the prima-
ries and the tail tipped with bright yellow, the former some-
times edged across the end with white. It is 7-8 inches
long. The size and form of this species, its elegant shading
of rich colors, and its bright and sharply-contrasted mark-
ings fairly entitle it to its European epithet, ''The Lovely
Wax- wing! " This is an Arctic bird, both of the Old World
and the New, and appears here irregularly in flocks in win-
ter, sometimes moving southward to 35^. Its nest and eggs,
a few of which have been found in the northern part of this
continent, are very similar to those of its near relative, the
Cedar Bird, only a little larger.

THE PINE LINNET.

One of these cold days, as I was riding by a pasture well
stocked with the remains of the thistle and golden-rod of

42 THE PINE LINNET.

the previous summer, I shot a soHtary bird on a thistle,
which, in movement and appearance, reminded me of the
Goldfinch. It proved, however, to be its near relative, the
Pine Linnet [Chrysomitris pinus)^ the first of the kind I had
ever identified. Like many birds, appearing plain in the
distance, on a close examination it is found to be a thing of
delicate beauty. The size and form of the Goldfinch, it differs
much from it in color. About 4.V5 inches long, above it is
narrowly streaked with black or dusky and yellowish flaxen,
beneath with dusky and yellowish white; the rump 3^ellow-
ish; the bases of the black or dusky v/ing and tail feathers,
bright, sulphury yellow, the same feathers being narrowly
edged externally with yellowish; the yellow at the bases of
wing and tail feathers being especially noticeable in flight.

This bird ranges generally in flocks, and more or less
irregularly throughout the United States in winter, and, as
far as yet known, breeds from the latitude of Maine north-
ward. It is sometimes in Western New York already in
flocks by the 4th of July.

Dr. C. Hart Merriam, of Locust Grove, Lewis County,
New York, writes concerning this species: *'Few birds are
more erratic in their habits than the Siskin or Pine Linnet.
Occurring to-day, perhaps, in such numbers that one soon
tires of shooting them, they are gone on the morrow, and
years may elapse before one is seen again." Concerning
1878, he continues: "During the past winter and spring
they literally swarmed in Lewis County, New York, and
thousands of them bred throughout the heavy evergreen
forests east of Black River, while many scattered pairs
nested in suitable hemlock and balsam swamps in the mid-
dle districts." Again he says of this region, and of Big
Otter Lake in Herkimer County: "Never before at any
locality have I seen a species of bird represented by such

THE TREE SPARROW. 43

immense numbers of individuals as here attested the abund-
ance of the Pine Finch. In every part of the forest, from
early morning till after the sun had disappeared in the west,
there was not a moment that their voices were not heard
among the pines and spruce trees overhead." Already in
April the young were found nearly fledged, and eggs were
taken as early as the 18th of March. Dr. M. reports the
nest as "a very bulky structure for so small a bird, and its
rough exterior, loosely built of hemlock twigs, with a few
sprigs of pigeon moss i^polytrichuni) interspersed, is irregu-
lar in outline, and measures about six inches in diameter.
The interior, on the contrary, is compactly woven into a
sort of felt, the chief ingredients of which are thistle-down
and the fur and hair of various mammals."

In spring it is said to sing very much like the Goldfinch,
but in lower tones and more softly. Its conversational
chipper is also very similar to that of its near relative. Its
nest, said by Dr. Brewer to be "neat," made of "pine twigs"
and "lined with hair;" contains pale-greenish eggs speckled
with rusty, about .70 X .50.

In flight, manner of alighting, and movements in obtain-
ing food, this species very closely resembles the Goldfinch.
In addition to the seeds of the thistle and those of the weeds
in general, it appropriates as food the seeds obtained from
the cones of the Pine family, climbing actively in the tops
of the evergreens.

THE TREE SPARROW.

The same day I crept on a large flock of birds in a corn
field. They proved to be Tree Sparrows {Sptzella monticola)^
readily distinguished from others of the same family by
their dark chestnut crown, and dark spot on a plain, ash-
colored breast; the white cross-bars on the wing coverts
also are generally quite conspicuous.

44 THE GOLDFINCH.

Reaching us in October, this is one of our most abundant
winter birds, generally in large flocks, extending nearly to
the Gulf States, and returning northward in April and
early in May. It " breeds north of the United States, to
high latitudes, but also, like the Snow-bird, in mountains
within our limits." (Coues.) Its eggs are said to be much
like those of the Song Sparrow, and its nest indifferently on
the ground, in a bush, or in a tree.

So gentle and unsuspecting is this bird, that it will even
pick up the crumbs around the door in winter, though it
generally affects the field, the pasture, the thicket, or the
orchard; and it seems to sing almost throughout the year.
In the latter part of March, or during the month of April,
when the Song Sparrow is giving us his earliest and most
ringing notes, from the thickets and from the ground you
may hear the soft, sweet notes of this species, as a sort of
undertoned accompaniment — Wheh-Jie-ho-Jie-whee-he-he-he-he;
the first four notes drawn out, and the rest uttered some-
what rapidly. In mild days of November whole flocks
may be heard warbling almost as sweetly as in spring, and
in the midst of the cold of winter, their notes are often
much more like a warble than a mere twitter, a whole flock
becoming thoroughly musical. In the soft sweetness of its
song, its general habit and migration, it is very much like
the Dark Snow-bird, and, like it, is not common west of the
Rocky Mountains.

THE GOLDFINXH.

We have had several sunn}^ days, and our heavy fall of
snow has settled to a stratum of six or eight inches. I am
leisurely strolling through a thicket, on a bright afternoon,
on the sunny side of a large woods. I find Chickadees, in
familiar little parties, happy as the sunshine. A small flock
of Tree Sparrows has also flown overhead, and lighted in

THE GOLDFINCH. 45

a pasture near by. But the most numerous and spirited
company I meet is a party of Goldfinches {Chrysomitris
tristis). After caroling and whirling, high in air, they have
alighted within a short gun-shot. Excepting the Wrens, this
is decidedly the most animated bird of my acquaintance.
Every particle of his being seems inspirited with life. A
rare thing, indeed, it is to catch him in a state of rest.
When taking food, he seems to go through all the motions
possible, now reaching upward, now downward, now side-
wise, and now hanging by the feet. In flight he takes long,
bounding curves, showing an elasticity of stroke altogether
uncommon; and to make that flight still more animated,
frequently utters his strongly emphasized ditty — ^' I've
cheated ye, I've cheated yeT On lighting in a tree, he is in a
perfect state of excitement, beckoning, chattering and call-
ing, as if seeking to attract universal attention, giving one
the impression that there is a host of other birds within
hailing distance. Indeed, he never seems alone. When he
sings, he seems so brimful of his song, and in such haste to
deliver it, that he cannot articulate distinctly, but runs one
note into another, and breaks others off so abruptly that,
notwithstanding its pleasing vivacity, it often appears quite
incomplete. Not infrequently a considerable flock will all
sing at once, thus making a noisy chorus. In the case of
birds, as in the case of men, we should not confound song
with conversation. In respect to the latter, the Goldfinch
has a great variety of notes, which it is about impossible
to describe in full. Tid-tid-di-die^ tse-hee-tsee, tee-hee, in addi-
tion to his familiar ditty when in flight, are sounds quite
common to him. Whether we contemplate him in voice or
in action, the sentiment ever expressed by him is that of
joy, so that he is properly spoken of as the happy Gold-
finch. This is particularly a seed-eater, and, like the rest of

46 THE GOLDFINCH.

his family, the Fringillid(Z, which includes the Sparrows and
their relatives, he has a short, thick bill, with which to shell
the seeds. In common with the rest of our winter birds, he
does no small service in keeping down the weeds. In plac-
ing the Goldfinch on the thistle, Audubon rendered his
portrait true to nature. He is found there more frequently
than on any other plant. How often we see him leading out
his young family to dine on the seeds of this very common
and troublesome weed ! Hence he is sometimes called the
Thistle-bird. This natural inclination to aid the farmer in
his struggle with noxious plants should especially commend
our sprightly little friend, as well as his whole family con-
nection, to the kindly consideration of the farmer. Besides,
do not the trim form, bright colors, graceful and spirited
movements, and cheerful, happy voice of this species, con-
tribute constantly to the innocent pleasures of the out-door
laborer? Is he not the true messenger of a boundless joy
for man as well as for the birds?

The winter dress of our bird has nothing attractive.
Audubon has described it well and in few words: "Brown-
ish-olive above, without black on the head; foreneck and
breast grayish-yellow, the rest of the lower parts grayish-
white." But this is not the color of the female in summer.
Lacking the bright lemon-yellow, black crown, black wings
and tail marked with white, which constitute the vernal
habit of the male — in her plain suit of green, with dusky
wings and tail, and shading into yellow underneath — she is
truly beautiful, as she flits by the side of her gay consort.
Have you ever seen the two take each other by the bill and
delicately caress each other under the brow of some hill on
a beautiful spring day ?

In its time of nesting this bird is quite unaccountable.
Though the male has put on his gay attire, long before the

THE GOLDFINCH. 47

spring is robed in splendor, and has chosen his mate quite
as soon as other birds, not until July is there the slightest
indication of domestic cares. Then you no longer see them
in large, noisy parties, but each couple has found a quiet
nook, and become as steady as any other pair of birds.
Quite commonly the site chosen is in the orchard, some-
times in the top of a tall shade-tree which stretches its
boughs over the house-roof, often in the thicket which bor-
ders the forest, and not infrequently in a cosy clump of
elders. In the latter kind of place, late in July, was found
a very gem of a nest, now before me. True to the favorite
plant, it is mostly composed of thistle-down, interlaced and
wound into position by fine shreds of the bark of the grape-
vine and bass-woods, all of which materials give it a some-
what bulky, but neat, gray appearance, beautifully in har-
mony with the branch on which it is saddled. This nest is
finished alike within and without, and even on the under
side. It is not merely built on the limb, but neatly finished
arotmd it. Evidently it was not constructed in a hurry.
The bottom, sides, and rim are thick, and firm, and finely
felted together. The inside is an elegant bed of white,
silky down. In every respect it is perfect. But oh, the
eggs! What gems they are! Some half-dozen, the size of
a Wren's egg, .65 X .51, clear white, tinged with green, they
render the nest perfect in beauty. Many a time has the sight
of it thrilled me with pleasure, and nevermore than to-night,
as I review all its beauties for an accurate description, and
recall the many kindnesses of the dear friend who compli-
mented my tastes in saving it for me.

Like some others of the smaller birds, the Goldfinch sits
only about a week.

It ranges through North America generally, breeding as
far south as Kentucky.

48 THE RUFFED GROUSE.

THE RUFFED GROUSE.

One of my townsmen has just brought a pair of beautiful
Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbclla), male and female, and
wishes them mounted. He has described the attitudes he
prefers; the male, "as if he was just goin' to fly," and the
female, "as if she was harkin'." I will try to comply with
the request. These birds remind me of an incident of a few
years ago. One of my most esteemed parishioners, on going
out into his door-yard at break of day, early in November,
found a beautiful male of the Ruffed Grouse promenading
about like a domestic fowl. On attempting to fly over the
barn it struck the ridge of the roof and fell dead on the
other side. He brought it to me, and, on dissection, its
breast proved to be completely bruised. In more super-
stitious times this might have been regarded as an evil
omen, for a few months afterwards this same man was
instantaneously killed.

These birds before me are specially characteristic of
Eastern North America, and have a history, which cannot
fail to interest the lover of nature. The man who procured
them might well be impressed with their movements and
attitudes, for they are every way marked and pleasing.

"On the ground," says Audubon, "where the Ruffed
Grouse spends a large portion of its time, its motions are
peculiarly graceful. It walks with an elevated, firm step,
opening its beautiful tail gently and with a well-marked
jet, holding erect its head, the feathers of which are fre-
quently raised, as are the velvety tufts of its neck. It poises
its body on one foot for several seconds at a time, and utters
a soft cluck^ which in itself implies a degree of confidence in
the bird that its tout ense??ible is deserving of the notice of
any bystander. Should the bird discover that it is observed,
its step immediately changes to a rapid run, its head is

THE RUFFED GROUSE. 49

lowered, its tail is more widely spread, and, if no convenient
hiding place is at hand, it immediately takes flight with as
much of the w^hirring sound as it can produce, as if to prove
to the observer that, when on the wing, it cares as little
about him as the deer pretends to do when, on being started
by the hound, he makes several lofty bounds, and erects his
tail to the breeze."

Who that lives in his vicinity has not heard the "drum-
ming" of the male in the breeding season? Although it is
quite possible that he may not have seen the bird in the act,
for that is the privilege of but few. Mr. John Burroughs
says: "The male bird selects, not as you would predict, a
dry and resinous log, but a decayed and crumbling one,
seeming to give the preference to old oak logs that are par-
tially blended with the soil. If a log to his taste cannot be
found, he setsup his altar on a rock, which becomes resonant
beneath his fervent blows. Who has seen the Partridge
drum ? It is the next thing to catching a weasel asleep,
though by much caution and tact it may be done. He does
not hug the log, but stands very erect, expands his ruff,
gives two introductory blows, pauses half a second, and then
resumes, striking faster and faster, till the sound becomes a
continuous unbroken w^hir, the whole lasting less than half
a minute. The tips of his wings barely brush the log, so
that the sound is produced rather by the force of the blows
upon the air and upon his own body as in flying. One log
will be used for many years, though not by the same drum-
mer. It seems to be a sort of temple, and held in great
respect. The bird always approaches on foot, and leaves it
in the same quiet manner, unless rudely disturbed. He is
very cunning, though his wit is not profound. It is difficult
to approach him by stealth; you try many times before suc-
ceeding; but seem to pass by him in a great hurry, making
4

50 THE RUFFED GROUSE.

all the noise possible, and with plumage furled he stands as
immovable as a knot, allowing you a good view and a good
shot, if you are a sportsman." Audubon says: "The female,
which never drums, flies directly to the place where the male
is thus engaged, and, on approaching him, -opens her wrings
before him, balances her body to the right and left, and then
receives his caresses."

Whether the drumming is produced by striking the wings
against the body, by striking the wrings together behind the
back, or by simply beating the air, has been a much debated
question. Probably the latter is the true explanation. Nor
is it merely the call of the male to the female in the breed-
ing season, since it is indulged in at other times of the year,
but is also, as Nuttall has said, "an instinctive expression
of hilarity and vigor."

Behold the male strutting before the female in time of
courtship! The first time I saw him in this act I was utterly
at a loss to identify him. The ruff about the neck is per-
fectly erect, so that the head is almost disguised; the wings
are partially opened, and droop gracefully; the feathers gen-
erally are elevated; the tail, w4th its rich, black band, is
spread to the utmost and thrown forward. Thus he stands
nearly motionless, a genuine object of beauty

The flight of the Partridge is straight forward, vigorous
and heavy for about half the distance, after which it simply
sails, and that most gracefully, almost ethereally, to the
place of lighting. Thus the last part of its flight is strik-
ingly in contrast with the first. The whirring strokes of
the Partridge when put up is not, in all probability, its
ordinary mode of flight, but only the result of its surprise.
The best of observers affirm that, when rising of its own
accord, its flight is as noiseless as that of other birds. Its
habit of shooting for some distance through the loose snow,

THE RUFFED GROUSE. 51

in the course of its flight, and of sitting still and allowing
itself to be snowed over, and then starting out, as by a sud-
den explosion, on some surprise, have been attested by
several writers of the best authority.

Audubon used to attract the Ruffed Grouse "by beating
a large inflated bullock's bladder with a stick, keeping up
as much as possible the same time as that in which the bird
beats." "At the sound produced by the bladder and the
stick," he says, "the male Grouse, inflamed with jealousy,
has flown directly towards me, when, being prepared, I have
easily shot it." There are many birds which may be decoyed
by a faithful imitation of their notes.

The nest of this beautiful bird is associated with my recol-
lections of childhood. I can see it still, a slight bed of
leaves, on the ground, under a fallen tree, in the wild
meadow. How the gentle wild hen would sit, till we chil-
dren came near enough to touch her, sometimes making our
calls without causing the least disturbance. The eggs,
about a dozen in number, and near the size of those of a
pullet, some 1.55 x 1-15, are brownish-white, often neatly
spotted and specked with brown. Well do I remember, too,
the stories in vogue among my playmates, as to the cunning
tricks of the younglings — how they would scamper and hide
on being found, turning over on their backs and pulling
dried leaves over them for concealment; all of which I
believed then, but long since have come to doubt. It is not
the perfection of the concealment which I have come to
doubt, for that is beyond question, but the manner of that
concealment. The truth is their color is so much like that
of the dry leaves, and they are either so motionless or so
completely tucked away, that the eye cannot detect them.
The tender, downy little creatures! who could harm them
if he did find them! I once came upon a large brood just

52 THE RUFFED GROUSE.

hatched, and succeeded in catching some half-dozen; but
how could I withstand the distress of the mother-bird as
she tossed and tumbled over and over, moaning and cluck-
ing, sometimes near enough to be touched by the hand !
Like Audubon, when he emptied the young Mallards from
his game-bag, I was completely overcome by the demon-
stration of maternal anguish.

But the most affecting of all was to hear the tender cluck-
ing call of the mother, and the soft peeping reply of the
flock of little ones, as soon as I was out of sight. To this
moment I am hoping that she succeeded in getting all her
young family safely together, after so rude a dispersion.

Berries of all kinds, as well as seeds, are the food of this
species; and when these are scarce, even leaves and buds
will do, and especially the catkins of the alder.

The Partridge, in its several varieties, pretty nearly covers
North America, our variety occupying Canada and the
Eastern United States into the mountains of the Carolinas.
About the size of a common fowl, with a graceful crest and
fan-shaped tail, the general color is a beautiful brown, vari-
ously mottled and clouded with light and dark; and it is
readily distinguished by its bunch of glossy black plumes on
each shoulder, and its broad band of black across the end of
the tail.

CHAPTER III.
OPEN WINTER.

THE frost and snow of early winter have softened, ere the
middle of the season, into such mild days, fields so green
and skies so tender, that one almost imagines himself in
some southern clime. Rain falls as easily as in April, and
the air is laden with a genial vapor, which almost threatens
to bring out the buds.

What happy moments were those this morning, as I sat in
my study, by the large window facing the east, and watched
the coming of the morning! It was announced by a delicate,
rosy tint, stretching like a band along the horizon — a
fringe, where the deep blue touched the darkened landscape.
Anon, the lambent flame pervades the whole chamber of the
east, transfiguring space itself, and strikingly in contrast
with the clouds in the foreground — still sable under the
shadows of retreating night. Now these dark clouds them-
selves have caught the glow, and are soon turned into
amber and gold. The rosy flames rise higher and higher,
till they touch the zenith; and now a broad band of rich,
transparent green unrolls along the horizon, and the whole
heaven is aglow with the glory of the coming day.

THE QUAIL.

I must out, and away to the woods! Passing through a
large peach-orchard, just before entering a beautiful, park-

54 THE QUAIL.

like forest, I put up a small flock of Quails. They are now
a rarity in Orleans County, New York, so much so that laws
have been passed in this and adjoining counties giving them
special protection throughout the year. But who could
wantonly injure a Quail? This is surely the most winning
game-bird in our land. Who can blame certain tender-
hearted little children, who will not accept any apology
whatever, for taking the life of one of them ? The flight of
the Quail on being startled is quite like that of the Partridge,
except that it does not generally fly so far. The surprise to
the obser^^er, however, is greater, since the Quail is often in
quite considerable flocks, whereas the Partridge is much
less gregarious. Take your first chance for a shot at a flock
of Quails, for, after the first putting up, they are scattered
and very shy. Having flown in every direction, they en-
sconce themselves away so perfectly that they are not to be
seen, till one by one they fly up, almost from under foot; or,
if the whole flock start, it will be from many different points
in the vicinity, and so they will afford no shot, except singly.

The following citation from Audubon is so well worded,
and so in accord with the facts, that I shall adopt it ver-
batim:

•'When an enemy is perceived they immediately utter a
lisping note, frequently repeated, and run off, with their tail
spread, their crest erected, and their wings drooping, towards
the shelter of some thicket or the top of a fallen tree. At
other times, when one of the flock has accidentally strayed
to a distance from its companions, it utters two notes louder
than any of those mentioned above, the first shorter and
lower than the second, when an answer is immediately
returned by one of the pack. This species has, moreover,
a love-call, which is louder and clearer than its other notes,
and can be heard at a distance of several hundred yards. It

THE QUAIL. 55

consists of three distinct notes, the two last being loudest,
and is peculiar to the bird. A fancied similarity to the
words Bob White renders this call familiar to the Sportsman
and farmer; but these notes are always preceded by -another,
easily heard at a distance of thirty or forty yards. The three
together resemble the words ah Bob White. The first note
is a kind of aspiration, and the last is very loud and clear.
This whistle is seldom heard after the breeding season,*
during which an imitation of the peculiar note of the female
will make the male fly towards the sportsman, who may
then easily shoot it.

"In the Middle Districts the love-call of the male is heard
about the middle of April, and in Louisiana much earlier.
The male is seen perched on a fence-stake, or on the low
branch of a tree, standing nearly in. the same position for
hours together, and calling ah Bob White at every interval
of a few minutes. Should he hear the note of a female, he
sails directly towards the spot whence it proceeded. Several
males may be heard from different parts of a field challeng-
ing each other, and should they meet on the ground, they
fight with great courage and obstinacy, until the conqueror
drives off his antagonist to another field.

" The female prepares a nest composed of grasses, arranged
in a circular form, leaving an entrance not unlike that of a
common oven. It is placed at the foot of a tuft of rank
grass or some close stalks of corn, and is partly sunk in the
ground. The eggs, 10-15, rather sharp at the smaller end,
are white. The male at times assists in hatching them.
This species raises only one brood in the year, unless the eggs
or the young when yet small have been destroyed. When
this happens the female immediately prepares another nest;
and should it also be ravaged, sometimes even a third. The

* I have heard this same ditty occasionally in the pleasant days of autumn.

56 THE QUAIL.

young run about the moment after they make their appear-
ance, and follow their parents until spring, when, having
acquired their full beauty, they pair and breed.

"The Partridge (Quail) rests at night on the ground,
either amongst the grass or under a bent log. The indi-
viduals which compose the flock form a ring, and moving
backwards, approach each other until their bodies are nearly
in contact. This arrangement enables the whole covey to
take wing when suddenly alarmed, each flying off in a
direct course, so as not to interfere with the rest."

A straw-stack in the field in winter is a great attraction to
the Quail. Here flocks may be seen gleaning the stray ker-
nels of grain; and nowhere do their graceful movements
and quiet ways appear more winning. If unmolested and
treated with a little kindly consideration, they will come
even to the barn-yard and share the fare of the domestic
fowl.

Being unsuspecting, and a bird of the fields, the pasture
and the orchard, it is the victim of many modes of capture.
Moving often in close flocks, many may be taken at a single
shot; a figure-four trap may take a number at a time. In
this way a lad of my acquaintance once took thirteen, feed-
ing them under the trap, and taking them out as they
were needed for the table. Audubon describes a method
of driving them into a net in large numbers.

The predominant color of the Quail is a bright reddish-
brown, occasionally streaked with black, and again shading
into a beautiful gray, white beneath, crossed wuth zigzag
lines of black; throat of the female brownish-yellow, and
that of the male white. Smaller than a common bantam
hen, it cannot be mistaken in Eastern North America.

It ranges throughout the Eastern United States to a little
north of Massachusetts, and into Canada West and Minne-

THE NORTHERN SHRIKE. 57

sota. Like others of its order, it is particularly a seed and
grain-eating bird.

The Partridge and the Quail belong to the Gallinaceous
or Poultry order of birds, so named because it includes our
common domestic fowl. They are for the most part a
strongly marked order. The vaulted upper mandible, with
its nostrils at the base and "covered by a cartilaginous
scale;" the short, rounded wmgs; the breast-bone, with two
such deep emarginations on each side, and the keel so cut
away in front as to reduce it to a mere open frame; the
heavy flight; the simplicity of the lower larynx; the muscular
gizzard and large crop — are all points of differentiation
which cannot easily be mistaken. They incubate on the
ground, having a simple nest and a large number of eggs.

THE NORTHERN SHRIKE.

A little to my right is a large buttonwood tree, making a
marked and beautiful contrast with the rest of the landscape,
for in this tree there is no brown whatever, the trunk and
main limbs shaling off almost to a pure white, and the spray
being nearly black.

To an ornithologist a tree is never complete without a
bird. So I strain my eyes to detect something of the kind
in the thick branches, and am not disappointed. In the
thickest part of the top, sitting almost motionless, is a
Northern Shrike or Butcher Bird [La7uus borealis). Not
far from the size of a Robin, 9-10 inches long, but with a
much larger head and thicker neck, and a longer tail, its
color is an olivaceous drab, with black patches from the
base of the bill back across the eyes and down the sides of
the neck; wings and tail black with white markings; under-
neath white, with cross-pencilings of black. But this color-
ation varies greatly in different individuals, the white some-

oS

THE NORTHERN SHRIKE.

times being very dull, the black quite brownish, or, if both
these are quite clear, the drab may be clear and bright, con-
taining nothing of the olivaceous. This bird is an inch
longer than its cousin, the White-rumped Shrike, the latter
being a very common summer resident here, while the
former generally spends only the milder or early part of the
winter with us;* and all the noise we ever hear from it in
that time is a hoarse scream, reminding one a little of a
Hawk. Generally it is solitary, but sometimes it is accom-
panied by a mate. It must pass the colder part of the win-
ter a little farther south, but is back again on its way north
early in spring. It is reported as spending the entire winter
in the vicinity of Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania, and as
making its winter trips as far south as 35'^.

A few days since, while spending some hours with one of
the farmers of my parish, I had a good opportunity to note
certain habits of this bird. My friend was drawing in corn-
stalks from the field. Several of these Shrikes, perched in
small trees scattered in the immediate vicinity, seemed bound
to keep him company. Occasionally one would fly out a
short distance from his perch, and hover in quest of prey,
precisely in the manner of the Sparrow Hawk {Falco 'spar-
verius). Not infrequently a mouse would start out on remov-
ing a shock, when it was instantly gobbled up by the
familiar, sharp-eyed bird. On removing one shock, a nest of
full-grown rats was disturbed, some of which escaped the
farmer's boot-heel and fork-tines. Presently I heard a loud
squeaking in a corner of the fence near by. On hurrying
to the spot, I found a Shrike, regaling itself on one of the
young rats, and so intent on its meal that, though I was
almost near enough to put my hand on it, it eyed

* If it be verj' mild and open, the Great Northern Shrike may remain in Western New
York throughout the winter. The Loggerhead is a southern species of which the White-
rump is a variety,

THE NORTHERN SHRIKE. 59

me hesitatingly for some time before concluding to
leave.

In structure, as well as in habit, this bird is quite peculiar.
Its bill is not a little like that of a Hawk, while its feet and
claws, as well as its general figure, are ver}^ much like those
of certain birds of song; consequently, with much of the
bird of prey in its manner, it is still ranked, in point of
structure, between the Vireos and the Finches. It will
attack a Sparrow, peck out its brain, lug it around in its
beak, and make a meal of it at its leisure, as readily as any of
the Raptores, while in feeding it is in general as truly insectiv-
orous as that of the most innocent song-bird. Indeed, its
destruction of insect-life is altogether uncommon. It does
not merely consume them as food, but has a certain bar-
barous habit of impaling them in large numbers on thorns,
and that for no other purpose than mere wantonness, as it is
never known to appropriate them afterward as food. It will
sit by the hour in the presence of its struggling victims, and
seem utterly indifferent to their tortures. The common
European Shrike is represented as impaling small birds on
thorns in a similar manner.

Wilson says: "It retires to t^e north, and to the higher
inland parts of the country to breed. It frequents the deep-
est forests; builds a large and compact nest in the upright
fork of a small tree, composed outwardly of dry grass, and
whitish moss, and warmly lined within with feathers. The
female lays six eggs, of a pale cinerous color, thickly marked
at the greater end with spots and streaks of rufous. She
sits fifteen days. The young are brought out early in June,
sometimes towards the end of May, and during the greater
part of the first season are of a brown ferruginous color on
the back."

60 THE CROW.

THE CROW.

The most noticeable bird of our winter landscape is the
Common Crow. Neither cold nor snow can drive him
away, while, in mild open weather, he scorns the woods and
fields, and rises high in air against the passing breeze, as if
he were sole lord of the entire region. He is hardly ever
alone, and often appears in quite considerable flocks, some-
times in large numbers. To-day he is stepping about the
plowed fields and meadows with all his wonted stateliness.
What a splendid coat of glossy black he wears! He appears
quite as well on the wing, too, as on the ground, moving
with a steady, graceful energy, even in the raggedness of
his moulting period, when the loss of main pinions is seen
in the formidable gaps of either wing. Even his voice,
though very much lacking in compass and far from being
really musical, has a vigor and a significance amidst nature's
sounds, which is far from being unpleasing. In short, we
could easily be reconciled to him, aye, even pleased with
him, were it not for certain of his thievish and cruel habits
of diet.

Firstly. He is the arch-disturber of the corn-fields. How
the farmer is obliged to tax his ingenuity in order to
secure himself, in part at least, against his depredations!
In that delightful book by Susan Fenimore Cooper, entitled
^' Rural Hours," is a little paragraph well illustrating the
husbandman's resources m this respect. In her diary for
the 4th of June she says: "The cornfields are now well
garnished with Scare-crows, and it is amusing to see the
different devices employed for the purpose. Bits of tin
hung upon upright sticks are very general; lines of white
twine, crossing the field at intervals near the soil, are also
much in favor, and the Crows are said to be particularly shy
of this sort of network; other fields are guarded by a num-

THE CROW. 61

ber of little whirligig wind-mills. One large field that we
passed evidently belonged to a man of great resources in
the way of expedients; for, among a number of contri-
vances, no two were alike; in one spot, large as life, stood the
usual man of straw ; here was a tin pan on a pole, there a
sheet was flapping its full breadth in the breeze, here was a
straw hat on a stick, there an old flail ; in one corner a
broken tin Dutch oven glittered in the sunshine, and at right
angles with it was a tambourine! It must needs be a bold
Crow that will venture to attack such a camp." Then she
adds in a foot-note: "This field yielded ninety-three bushels
of maize to the acre the following autumn."

The second charge to be brought against the Crow is the
destruction of other birds' nests. Never shall I forget the
unhappy impression he made upon me many years ago in
Nova Scotia, on my first discovery of the Snowbird's
{/unco) nest containing young just hatched. The nest
was under the bottom rail of a fence, and on approaching it
the second time I discovered a Crow in the act of gulping
down the last of the young. Never was my indignation
over a bird greater, except when, in my childhood, a large
Hawk carried off my black chicken. " The most remarka-
ble feat of the Crow," says Audubon, " is the nicety with
which it, like the Jay, pierces an ^gg with its bill, in order
to carry it off, and eat it with security. In this manner I
have seen it steal, one after another, all the eggs of a wild
Turkey's nest." " In spring," says Wilson, "when he makes
his appearance among the groves and low thickets, all the
feathered songsters are instantly alarmed, well knowing the
depredations and murders he commits on their nests, eggs,
and young."

But, as in the case of many other transgressors, there are
some weighty things to be said in his favor. In the same

Q2 THE CROW.

field from which he steals the corn, he destroys many noxious
worms and insects, especially cut- worms; not to speak of the
snakes, moles and mice, whose career is cut short by him.
Besides, to the unprejudiced lover of nature, his presence
adds beauty and character to the landscape.

Between the good services and the mischief done by the
Crow, Wilson, Audubon, and most other ornithologists,
have found a large balance in his favor, while some, as
Samuels, for instance, are well convinced that his depre-
dations on crops, and more especially his destruction of the
nests and young of the smaller and more useful birds, can-
not be compensated by any good and useful office which it
is possible for him to fill. The latter view is the one more
in harmony with the sentiment of the common people;
hence, in various times and places, premiums have been
offered for his head, as in the case of the more destructive
beasts of prey. In consequence of this, the number destroyed
in a single State in a season has been as high as 40,000;
and Wilson tells us that, during a winter of ^' long-continued,
deep snow, more than six hundred Crows were shot on the
carcass of a dead horse, which was placed at a proper dis-
tance from the stable, from a hole of which the discharges
were made. The premiums awarded for these, with the
price paid for the quills, produced nearly as much as the
original value of the horse, besides, as the man himself
assured me, saving feathers sufficient for filling a bed."

But whatever the public sentiment may be, no bird is
better able to take care of itself than the Crow. Go into the
field or forest, and steal a shot at it if you can! Under all
ordinary circumstances, its keen eye and vigilant caution
are a full match for its enemies. I do not see how Wilson's
school-boy ever secured for him a basket of Crows. If one
.of my young friends shoots one over the carcass of a dead

THE CROW, 63

sheep, pointing his gun through a loop-hole in the barn — and
that did happen once — I consider that he does well.

Though not a few of the Crows remain here over winter;
many more appear to go south, where they congregate in
immense flocks, and are very destructive.

The unfrequented evergreen woods of Goat Island at
Niagara Falls, in winter, and the steep, forest-clad slopes
of the inaccessible gorge from the Falls to Queenstown
Heights, throughout the year, are famous roosting places for
the Crows. Here they may be seen at night-fall in almost
countless numbers, streaming in in long processions from
all the region round about.

The Crow's ordinary note, khra/i, k/wah, klwah, with a
strong, guttural sound before the vowel, is familiar to every
one. In the month of April, in New York, when the males
are winning the females, the former will perch on some limb
of a tall tree in the forest, and bowing m.ost obsequiously,
will utter in a low, deep tone the syllables, C/iow-ow-ow-oiu,
chow-ow-ow-ow.

In respect to diet this species may be called omnivorous;
stripping the sour cherry-tree of its abundant crop, stealing
a chicken, lighting on the backs of cattle to devour the
larvae of the gad-fly under their skin, or regaling, in vast
numbers, on offensive carrion, as readily as it would feast on
insects and corn.

The Crow is a most annoying enemy of the Hawks and
the Owls. As kingly a bird as the Red-tailed Hawk, can
find no peace in his presence. Driven from his lordly perch
among tall trees, I have seen him condescend to alight
among the tall grass of the meadow, as if to hide himself
away from persecution; but here the Crows would dive
into his face, and, with the most persistent impudence, com-
pel him to take shelter in some distant wood.

64

THE CROW,

One day last April, while lying under a bush by a stream,
and in the edge of a forest, in watch of ducks, I was startled
by a stentorious demonstration near by among the Crows.
Looking up I saw an immense tree-top literally black with
them. The object of their indignation, to which every head
was turned, was a Great Horned Owl, which sat staring and
blinking in the middle of the tree. Evidently their bowing
in concert with raised wings, and cawing enough to tear
their throats, were anything but agreeable to him. The roar
might have been heard a mile or more away, as each poured
forth his volume of charges against this goggling, glimmer-
ing Night-watch. Presently, several dashed at him with
wide-spread wings, when he rose and beat away through
the tree-tops, followed by the long and deafening train of
black persecutors. Alighting low down among the hem-
locks, he was as bitterly attacked as before; and though he
moved thus several times, until he was more than a mile
away, I could still hear the same noisy demonstrations of
bitter and persistent ill-will.

The nest, which is well hidden in the forest, and made
early in spring, is composed of sticks, interwoven and lined
with grasses, and sometimes with considerable horse-hair
and other soft materials, there being almost invariably some
dark mould in the bottom, perhaps to keep it cool. It is
generally placed pretty well up in a tree, and contains from
four to six eggs, of a light green, spotted and blotched with
blackish brown, and about the size of a small hen's ^%^^
some 1.70 X 1.20. On Manitoulin Island and in the vicinity
I found the Crow's nests in immense numbers. Indeed, they
were much more common than the nest of any other bird.

Can the Crow learn to talk? To this I have but one
authoritative answer. A very intelligent and estimable
lady, the daughter of a frontier missionary in the early

THE CROW, 65

days of Kansas, tells me that she has heard a Crow talk.
An Indian used to visit the mission station, bringing with
him one of these birds tamed, with the tongue split, and
able to mimic distinctly quite a number of words, as also
to originate little sentences of his own. During one of
these Indian visits, a patch of land connected with the
station was being plowed. The Crow, with his bright
red ribbon tied around him and trailing on the ground, was
busy picking up the insects, when our lady, then a little
girl, along with her sisters, was trying to catch the ends of
ribbon. Just as their tiny hands were about to grasp them,
the wily Crow would spring forward, thus eluding their
grasp, and looking back would tauntingly say, "You didn't,
did you ?" Well done for a Crow !

At Pittsburgh, Audubon once saw a pair of Crows per-
fectly white. Also a trusty parishioner of mine testifies
that some years since he was accustomed, for some time, to
see a pure white Crow leading the flock from one block of
woods on his farm to another.

The home of our Crow is throughout temperate North
America to hb'^, excepting the central plains and southern
Rocky Mountains.

CHAPTER IV.

BELOW ZERO.

SUDDEN changes are common to this climate. Immedi-
ately following our open winter weather comes a fall of
temperature below zero, with just snow enough on a smooth-
worn, hard-frozen road to make the sleighs slip easily.
The snow crunches under foot, and, what is rather uncom-
mon here, the trees and buildings resound with a strange
snapping, almost equal to the report of a pistol, as if the
nails in the buildings were springing out and the trunks of
the trees were bursting asunder — sounds very mysterious to
me in my childhood, but now understood to be caused by
an expansion, on the freezing of water contained in the
crevices of the trees or in the little exposed cavities of
buildings.

THE SNOWY OWL.

There is something peculiarly exhilarating in this kind of
weather. Everybody moves as if in a hurry; and, notwith-
standing the cold, one discovers a strong inclination to be
out. I am once more on my way to the favorite woods
beyond the peach orchard, gun in hand. As I move briskly
along that part of the orchard bordering on the forest, I put
up a large bird, almost as white as the snow itself. The
spread of its wings and tail is immense, and its flight is so
noiseless and dignified that one might almost think it some
living spiritual impersonation of winter. I take aim, and

THE SNOWY OWL. g;

down it tumbles headforemost into the snow. But it is only
winged; so, taking it by the wings stretched over the back,
I carry it home to surprise the family. That it is a female
is to be inferred from its great size and from its more
numerous dark markings; the male of this species being
sometimes so free of the dark spots as to appear pure white,
and the greater size of the female being peculiar to birds of
prey.

Little children are apt naturalists, and have many
questions to ask on an occasion like this, so I use my bird
for an object-lesson. I call their attention to the large
head, peculiar to the Owls among birds; and, turning the
round, weird, half-human face fully before them, call their
attention to the large eyes fairly in front, while the eyes of
other birds are on the sides of the head; point to the circle
of fringed feathers around the eyes, part of which nearly
covers the bill, and part of which laps over the immense
ear-hole; and note the eye-lashes, so strange among birds
This large, round, cat-like face, having also an almost
human aspect, is at once the weirdest and the most highly
sensitive. It is all eye and ear, stealthily confronting every
sound that may break the stillness of the night, and every
object that may loom up in the gloaming or the darkness.

" Do you see how the outer web of the outer wing- feathers
or primaries is recurved, as if it had been firmly brushed
backwards?" I asked my little girl. "What's that for?"
she inquired curiously. " So that it can fly without making
any noise," I replied; "that arrangement of the outer web,
as also the general softness and looseness of the plumage,
muffles the stroke of the wing, and enables the bird to steal
upon its prey in the still hours of the night without alarm-
ing it. All the Owls, being night-birds of prey, have this
modification of the wing." "O-o-o-o-oh! see that hole in

68 THE SNOWY OWL.

his face!" exclaimed my little boy, as I raised those long,
loose feathers, arranged in the manner of a disk on the cheek
of this bird. ^' That is his ear," I said; "all Owls have their
ears in their cheeks." "That's a wonderfully big ear, I
think; what does he have it covered up for?" he queried.
"That is the fashion with birds; they generally have their
ears covered," I replied. "Should think he'd want to have
such a hole in his face covered," he continued. "He's got
his face well wrapped up," said my little girl, as I parted
the thick mass of feathers covering the face and the black
bill almost to the very tip. "Shouldn't think his feet 'ud
get cold either with such stockings. I wish he'd let me
have 'em for my dolly this cold weather!"

This bird is, indeed, most wonderfully protected againt
the cold. Not only are the feet and legs so thickly covered
with a long, dense, hair-like plumage, that the great, black
claws are almost concealed, but the entire plumage of the
body beneath the surface is of the most downy and elastic
kind, and so thickly matted together that it is almost proof
against the smaller kind of ammunition.

"Wish I had some of them for my doll's hat!" continued
the little girl, as I plucked off a few of the ostrich-like
plumes from the lower part of the body.

Wilson notes a peculiarity of the eye of this bird, and of
the Owls generally. He says: "The globe of the eye is
immovably fixed in its socket by a strong, elastic, hard^
cartilaginous case, in form of a truncated cone; this case,
being closely covered with a skin, appears, at first, to be of
one continued piece; but, on removing the exterior mem-
brane, it is found to be formed of fifteen pieces, placed like
the staves of a cask, overlapping a little at the base or nar-
row end, and seems as if capable of being enlarged or con-
tracted, perhaps by the muscular membrane with which

THE SNOWY OWL. 69

they are encased. * * h^ jj^^ ^y^ being thus fixed,
these birds, as they view different objects, are always
obliged to turn the head; and nature has so excellently
adapted their neck to this purpose that they can, with ease,
turn it round, without moving the body, in almost a com-
plete circle."*

The Snowy Owl is a bird of the Arctic regions. Common
in the extreme north of both continents, it is ever at home
amidst ice and snow; migrating southward in winter,
regularly into the New England and the Middle States, and
casually even to the extreme Southern States, breeding, ac-
cording to the best authorities, as far south as the Canadas,
and probably even in the north of Maine. I am not sure
but it may rarely breed here; for, as late as the 7th of May,
1877, two were seen in the vicinity of Lockport, N. Y., one
of which was shot and brought to me — a fine old male.
The nest is said to be on the ground, in which are laid
*' three or four white eggs, measuring about 2/^ inches in
length by 2 in breadth." Mr. Fortiscue says that at York
Factory, Hudson's Bay, it goes north in summer.

According to Wilson, "the usual food of this species
is said to be hares, grouse, rabbits, ducks, mice, and
even carrion. Unlike most of its tribe, it hunts by day as
well as by twilight, and is particularly fond of frequenting
the shores and banks of shallow rivers, over the surface of
which it slowly sails, or sits on a rock a little raised above
the water, watching the fish. These it seizes with a sudden
and instantaneous stroke of the foot, seldom missing its aim."

In my parish it has been known to attack the hens in
the barn-yard in broad daylight.

This bird cannot be mistaken; nearly or about two feet
long, white, with more or less scattered and lunated spots of

* This, however, is a characteristic structure of the eye of birds generally.

70 WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH.

dark brown or dusky, thickest on the back, not found on the
legs and feet; eyes, bright goMen yellow; feet and claws,
black.

I must not close my account of this bird without giving
a striking incident reported to me by a most venerable and
trustworthy old gentleman in my church, w^ho was person-
ally acquainted with the party, and to w^hom the facts were
well authenticated at the time. About fifty years ago, in
the town of Milford, Otsego County, N. Y., a man, on pass-
ing through a woods in the night, was twice knocked down
by some strange power in the air; and, securing a club in
time for the third rencounter, killed a large Snowy Owl,
which, by this time, had knocked his hat full of holes, and
sorely bruised his head.

WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH.

*'A11 times are good times to go a-shooting." So says
Dr. Coues; and knowing it to be so, I am again in the
woods on this cold day.

I am struck, on entering, with the deserted look of the
forest, and all the more on account of having seen this
same spot, so many times, in all the life and splendor of
summer — the trees in their marvelous robes of verdure,
the wild flowers in all their grace and beauty, the birds in
the full animation and song of spring. The wondrous
power of memory reproduces in an instant all this combi-
nation, with its delightful associations of coolness and fra-
grance. Now the trees are bare, the flowers are perished,
and the birds are gone; and how different is the solemn
sough of the winter wind through leafless trees to the
musical rustle of the summer breeze amidst the foliage !
Did I say the birds are gone? No; not entirely. Quank,
qimnk, quank. That note, so much louder in winter than in

WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH. Vi

summer, for the same reason that sounds are louder in the
night than in day-time — that sound, half guttural, half
nasal, and on a low key, is one of the most familiar in our
woods throughout the year. It is the language of the
White-breasted Nuthatch {^Sitta carolinensis)^ a bird so com-
mon here as to be familiar to every woodman, though he
may have no better name for it than Sapsucker, and may
know no more about it than to suppose the name charac-
teristic of its habits. But this bird is thus greatly misun-
derstood, for while it is supposed to be living upon the sap
of the tree, it is simply gleaning noxious insects and their
eggs and larvae.

Whatever may be the woodman's opinion of the bird, its
presence affords him pleasure on a bleak winter's day,
partly because it is often his only relief from solitude, and
partly because the bird is a pleasing object in itself. How
gracefully it moves along the trunk of yonder tree ! A
slight halt every few steps, it goes in a spiral direction,
head up or down, moving forward, backward, or sidewise
with equal convenience, every now and then pausing with
its downward head and bill in a horizontal position, as if
listening intently, and then taking up its note as it passes
on, as if to express its sense of safety and satisfaction.
With this note it can favor one as readily on a frosty day
in winter as in the genial days of spring. Then, however, it
makes quite an attempt at a song, uttering a tway-tivay-tway-
tway-tway^ quite rapidly, and with much spirit, as it threads its
way in the leafless trees on a bright April morning. Occa-
sionally it will utter in an undertone a soft ^Usink, tsmk," or
^^kip, kip." Sometimes it will alight on the ground, appar-
ently to catch something which it has spied from a distance;
or, for a few minutes, it will search the ground after the
manner of the Golden-winged Woodpecker. The name

72 WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH.

Nuthatch, though rather far-fetched, is not altogether inap-
plicable. Holding an acorn or chestnut in a bark-crevice,
or in a chink of a fence-rail, it will hammer it with its sharp-
pointed bill till it opens up the contents. This is done,
however, on account of the larvae burrowing in the fruit
rather than for the fruit itself, for the bird is at all times
strictly insectivorous. Then its form and color, too, are as
pleasing as its movements. About six inches long, bill ^ of
an inch; head and bill together, about 1}^ inch long; tail,
short; wings, long; the breadth across the shoulders giving
it a somewhat flat appearance; bluish ash over the back,
the outer webbing of the black wings edged with the same,
also the two middle tail feathers; the rest black, marked
with white; head and back of neck in male, glossy black;
in the female, black and ash mixed; whole under parts and
sides of head, grayish-white — this bird cannot be mistaken.
Its long hind toe and claw must be of great service in its
downward movements.

The Eastern United States and the British Provinces are
given as its habitat. Its nesting habits are similar to those
of the Chickadee; commonly on higher ground, however,
and the cavity chosen or excavated higher up in the stub or
decaying tree, sometimes as high as thirty or forty feet; the
eggs being a little larger and more thickly marked.

A set of five eggs in Professor Ward's cabinet at Roches-
ter, N. Y., from Saratoga Springs, averages about .50 x .75
inch, are porcelain-white, with a few spots, or rather brush-
touches, of dark-greenish or ocherous-yellow, at the large
end — elegant! By the 9th of June I have seen the parents
feeding the young well able to fly. The latter strongly
resembled the mature female, except that the white on the
cheeks and sides of the neck extended further upward, leav-
ing the dark band over the crown and hind neck very nar-

THE BL UE J A V. ^3

row. Great care is shown these younglings by the parents
in training them to creep and fly, and in feeding them most
assiduously till quite mature. Indeed, the whole family
seem not infrequently to remain together throughout the
first year.

THE RED-BELLIED NUTHATCH.

Very similar to the above in appearance and habit is the
Red-bellied Nuthatch {Si't/a canadensis), except that it is
quite a little smaller, scarcely five inches long, has a white
line over the eye, and the under parts of a pale rust-red.
The female has the black about the head replaced with dark
slate or dusky. The notes of this species are on a little
higher key than those of Carolinensis, and its nest and
eggs are precisely like those of the Chickadee. It is north-
erly, passing through New York State late in April and
early in May, and again in September and October. Its
breeding habitat begins in the northern parts of the State,
extending through northern New England and into the
British Provinces.

The little Brown-headed Nuthatch {Sitta pusilla), some
4.25 long and differentiated by its elegant brown head and
white spot on the nape, is a resident of the Southern States.
There the sunny pine forests echo its note — ^Uac/i, each,
each'' — its nesting and habits in general being quite similar
to those of our Nuthatches above described.

THE BLUE JAY.

The thermometer continues near zero. Large windows
are now truly objects of beauty, their frosted patterns being
inimitable. The larger figures remind one of ferns, or forest
trees in miniature; some are like thin snow-flakes of varied
size and pattern, some like delicate lines fringed mostly at
right angles; others are simply granulated with exquisitely

74 THE BL UE J A Y.

scrolled borders, while others still are suggestive of land-
scapes and pictures — all so delicate as to impress one forci-
bly with the spirituality of the laws which govern matter.

THE BLUE JAY.

What a study it would be for the physicist to determine the
variations possible on the one plan of crystallization of water
at an angle of 60°!

To-day I came into possession of a bird, the brilliant col-
ors of which are strikingly in contrast with the plainness of
winter. The Blue Jay {Cyanurus cristatiis) is one of our win-
ter residents, not so generally distributed as in most parts
of our country, but quite common to certain low, timbered
lands, where it is permanent, and breeds in considerable
numbers.

This is one of the most characteristic birds of Eastern
North America. Who does not know the Blue Jay? About
a foot long, five inches, or near one-half his length, is meas-
ured by his tail; well proportioned, crested and fan-tailed,
his form is elegant and his bearing stately; his various and

THE BLUE JAY. 75

delicately-shaded tints of blue, the jet-black bars and snow-
white tips of the wing and tail feathers, the black band from
the back of the crest down the sides of the neck and meet-
ing on the breast, and thus being most noticeable on the
subdued grayish-white of the cheeks and underparts — are
all in the most marked and pleasing contrast. No colored
portrait which I have ever seen is anything more than a
coarse caricature of the purplish-blue of the crest and back,
the brownish-blue on the tail, and delicate shadings of rich
indigo, ultra-marine and light azure on the wings. A single
feather of the wing or tail, dropped in the pasture, used to
excite my childish curiosity and love of beauty. Looking
merely at his size and gay dress, who would suspect him to
be a member of the Crow family? Surely he is a favorite
arrayed in a coat of many colors. Not only is he elegant in
form and gay in apparel, but every motion indicates a proud,
self-consciousness and love of display. Even his flight,
which is straightforward and steady, is showy rather than
rapid. When alighted, he stands upright, with elevated
crest, and all his movements show an air of vanity and self-
complacency.

His notes are many and various. His common, saucy-
squealing, chay, c/iay, chay, which, no doubt, gave him his
name in part — the other part being derived from his color
— must be familiar to all who know him. ^'Pwilhilly^ pwil-
hily,'" and ^^ chillack, chillack,'" are among his other more
common utterances, while a sort of creaking, clucking
sound may be regarded as his love-call. He is capable of
imitating many birds, and there is some authority for assert-
ing that he, true to his crow-nature, has even been taught
to imitate words. He is especially fond of teasing. Wilson
says: "He is not only bold and vociferous, but possesses a
considerable talent for mimicry, and seems to enjoy great

70 THE BLUE J A V.

satisfaction in mocking and teasing other birds, particularly
the Little Hawk {J^. sparverius)^ imitating his cry whenever
he sees him, and squealing out as if caught; this soon
brings a number of his own tribe around him, who all join
in the frolic, darting about the Hawk, and feigning the cries
of a bird sorely wounded and already under the clutches
of its devourer; while others lie concealed in the bushes,
ready to second their associates in the attack. But this ludi-
crous farce often terminates tragically. The Hawk, singling
out one of the most insolent and provoking, sweeps upon
him in an unguarded moment, and offers him up a sacrifice
to his hunger and resentment. In an instant the tune is
changed; all their buffoonery vanishes, and loud and inces-
sant screams proclaim their disaster."

Like his near relative, the Crow, he takes delight in tor-
menting the Owls.

But lacking as the Blue Jay is in anything like gentle or
winning ways, he might still meet with a fair toleration
were it not for his thievish and cruel habits. How he will
devour the fresh eggs from the bird's nests in his neighbor-
hood on the sly, gobble up even the tender young, some-
times in his barbarous daintiness taking nothing but the
eyes and brain! how he will pick out the eyes of a wounded
grouse; how he will steal corn from the bin, fruit from the
garden, and grain from the barn, has been noted by orni-
thologists in general. I have seen him lugging around an old
sparrow in the tops of the trees, in the month of May, pick-
ing out the eyes and brain at his leisure, and seemingly
without the least compunction; while, like all other tyrants,
when the true test comes, he is by no means brave, often
^' turning tail " to birds much smaller than himself. In view
of all this, who will pity him when, during the long winter
months, he is obliged to subsist on the frozen apples of the

THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER. 77

orchard, or, at other times of scarcity, to glean scraps
of carrion ! His best living, probably, is when the nuts
are ripe and plenty. Like other members of the Crow
family, he can eat anything, and so is called omniv-
orous.

In the breeding season the Blue Jay is partial to the ever-
greens of the forest, especially to dense cedar swamps, the nest
being most commonly built in an evergreen tree, generally
near the trunk, and anywhere from ten to thirty feet from the
ground. The outside of the nest is composed of small twigs,
the inside of fine rootlets, closely interwoven for the kind of
materials, and having a dark appearance. The eggs, four or
five in number, and about the size of those of a Robin, about
1.15 X -So, are greenish-drab, finely speckled all over with
light-brown and dull-lilac.

Habitat, Eastern North America, from the Gulf to 56°^
breeding throughout its range.

The Florida Jay [Ap/ielocoma floridana)^ lacking the crest
and the elegant black bars on wings and tail, is also blue
and about the same size as the above. With no white
markings on wings and tail, a plain gray patch on the back,
and a whitish forehead, it is much plainer. The blue band
about the head and neck contrasts finely, however, with the
gray of the back and breast. It is abundant in Florida,
and seems to be pretty much confined to that locality.

THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER.

Between sunset and dark of this cold winter-day, I behold
a most beautiful effect in the eastern sky. All along
the horizon is a broad band of brilliant green, which
gradually shades into a still broader band of rich purple,
and this latter, on approaching the zenith, shades into a
cold winter-gray. In the midst of the purple is the moon

78 THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER.

just before the full, and in front of the green is a bright
train of silvery clouds, tinted with the lingering hues of a
rosy sunset.

I am traversing the border of a large tract of woods,
when, high above the rest of the trees, in the tops of the tower-
ing elms, I discern the form and flight of the Golden-winged
Woodpecker {Colaptes auratus), a bird but occasionally seen
in this locality in winter. Silent and shy, he makes off as
fast as convenient, keeping to the tops of the tallest trees,
I strain my eyes for a last glimpse of him, but he soon
vanishes in the gloaming.

What a train of recollections and associations that mo-
mentary flight recalls! Next to the Robin, Bluebird, or
Barn Swallow, few members of the feathered tribes are bet-
ter known than "Flicker," "High-hole," "Yellow-hammer,"
etc., for the Golden-wing is known by all these names.
His several notes are among the most characteristic sounds
of spring, at which time he is thoroughly noisy. Com-
ing from the south in large numbers • late in March or
early in April, ascending some tall, dry tree-top at early
dawn, he announces himself either by a sonorous rapping
on the dry wood or by a loud squealing, but jovial call,
£hee-ah, chee-ah which, once noted, is not easily forgotten. But
even this latter is not half so awakening as a certain pro-
longed strain, of merely two syllables in regular repetition,
something like whric k-ah — wh?'ick-ah — whrick-ah — whrick-
ah — whric''k-ah — whric k-ah. This vocal performance, meant
for a song no doubt, is a mere rollicking racket toned
down, indeed, amidst the many voices of spring, and
even rendered pleasing by its good-natured hilarity. How
significant is that little love-note, yu-cah, half guttural,
half whisper, which he repeats at intervals as he flits
about the solitude of the forest in spring, or plays bo-

THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER. 79

peep with his lover around the broken-off top or limb of
some dead tree !

His flight is swift, vigorous and dashing; is performed in
curves by a few flaps of the wings, curving upward several
feet when alighting on the trunk of a tree, but ending hori-
zontally when alighting cross-wise on limbs, after the man-
ner of perching birds. In manner, as in structure, he is not
precisely like the rest of his family. At home anywhere
from the tallest tree-top to the ground, and always in a
hurry when afoot, he will capture his insect food after the
manner of Robins and Sparrows. Ants of all sizes are spe-
cially in favor with him. Why he should have such a
decided preference for this dry diet it is difficult to conceive
— perhaps on account of the tickling sensation which large
numbers of these vigorous little creatures may afford when
taken alive into the stomach. In summer and in autumn,
when these birds are sometimes exceedingly numerous, they
do not disdain certain kinds of small fruit, as wild grapes
and elderberries.

The nidification of this species is so much like that of
other Woodpeckers as to need no special notice, except in
two particulars, viz., that Flicker frequently chooses a
much decayed stub, and that the eggs are especially trans-
lucent and beautiful, the yolk appearing through the shell
when fresh. It may perhaps be added that the eggs are
sometimes laid at irregular intervals and in extraordinary
numbers.

About the size of a Pigeon, some 12.50 length and
19.00 extent, with bill slightly curved, its head and neck
are of a purplish-drab, with a scarlet crescent on the back of
the head, and, in the male, a black spot on each cheek at
the base of the bill; upper parts greenish-brown, spotted with
black; rump white and very conspicuous in flight; under

80 THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER.

parts reddish-white, beautifully spotted with black; a black
crescent on the breast; shafts of the larger feathers, under
side of wings and tail a rich yellow.

This bird ranges through Eastern North America, resid-
ing from the Middle States southward, some wintering as
far north as New England, and breeding throughout its
range.

CHAPTER V.
A JANUARY THAW.

IT is the last of January, 1880. We have had a complete
thaw; the frost is about out of the ground; the sunny days
would do credit to the last of March. Of course, ornitholo-
gists are on the lookout such days as these, so I must to
the fields and to the woods.

THE SNOW-BIRD.

As I spring over a pasture fence I startle a flock of Snow-
birds i^Junco hyemalis) from among the withered golden-rods
of last year. Tse-tse-tse-tse-fse^ and they leave en masse for the
brush-heap yonder. Both sight and sound give me clue to
them at once, for they are common here from October till
May. The great body of them, however, pass south-
ward in autumn and northward in spring, it being one of
the most abundant birds in the migrations.

Who does not love the Snow-bird? Not for its gay
apparel, however, for it is not only plain, but even sombre in
dress. The Mourning Sparrow, it might be called. A fine
male is almost as dark as crape, the pure white of his biP,
feet and legs, lower breast and under parts and feathers on
either side of his tail, being a most delicate set-off. The
female, when lightest, has the dark parts, a half mourning
gray, or dark drab. How strikingly in harmony is this little
bird with the gloom of autumn, the bleak days of winter,
or the chilly winds and unclad fields of early spring!
6

82

THE SNOW-BIRD.

In size, structure, and habit, it is every whit a Sparrow,
and quite frequently chooses the various members of that
family for its company. Most intimately is the history of

THE SNOW-BIRD.

this bird associated with my childhood. I well remember
the sunny spring day in Nova Scotia, when, in my boyish
delight, I found the first two bird's nests — the first, that of
the Hermit Thrush; the second, that of a Snow-bird. Ever
after I found the nest of the latter among the most com-
mon. Situated like that of the Song Sparrow, generally on
the ground and under some protection, rarely on a stump
or in a low bush, it is neatly built and most softly lined
with hair — often the hair rubbed off by the cattle on the
stumps. It contains some four eggs about .80 x -60, of a
fleshy white, sometimes tinged with blue, delicately specked
with reddish-brown. This nest is a very gem of its kind —
almost proof in itself against the boyish propensity to dis-

THE SNOW-BIRD. 83

turb this kind of treasure. When startled from her nest
the female is much excited, hobbling along on the ground as
if lame or leg-broken, her wide-spread tail showing the white
feathers on either side — the mark of relationship to the
Bay-wing — to the best advantage. Hopping about the
nearest stump or fence-rail, in the most uneasy manner,
she is joined immediately by her darker mate, in her sharp
cJiip-cJiip-chip-chip-chippiiig^ and again takes possession of the
nest as soon as the intruder leaves. The chipping note of
this bird is so much like that of the Chipping Sparrow
{Spizelia socialis) that Wilson found many persons in New
England and some in New York State who believed that
the former turned into the latter in summer, and it was most
difficult to remove the erroneous notion.

Resembling the Song Sparrow in size and general habit,
the Snow-bird differs widely from it, not only in color, but
in its song, which is a prolonged tintinnabulous twitter — a
more musical rendering of the monotonous strokes in the
plain melody of the Chipping Sparrow. Sometimes, how-
ever, one may surprise it in a soft, low warble, as if indulg-
ing in a musical soliloqu}^

Though belonging to the Fringillidce^ or seed-eating family,
it is, in summer at least, particularly insectivorous, completely
crowding its mouth with soft, writhing larvae for its young.

Audubon gave the Alleghany Mountain range as the breed-
ing habitat of this bird, and did not see it in Labrador.
Minot reports it breeding in the White Mountains early in
June, and sometimes again in July. Augustus H. Wood,
an ornithologist residing at Painted Post, N. Y., reports it
breeding commonly in his neighborhood, in damp situations
in ravines of hemlock woods. I have myself seen the
female, on the Tth of June, her mouth crammed with larv^ae,
in Tonawanda Swamp, in Orleans County, N. Y. Dr. Coues

84 THE MEADOW LARK.

informs me that in suitable localities it breeds southward,
even to Virginia and North Carolina. May not the damp
coolness of the swamp retain northern birds during the
breeding season as well as do the mountain ranges?

The Snow-bird winters from Southern New England
southward to the Gulf States. In the Rocky Mountains and
to the westward it is replaced by closely-allied species or
varieties.

THE MEADOW LARK.

It is ten o'clock in the forenoon. A strong south wind springs
up, and the sky, so clear and sunny an hour ago, is covered
with dense, gray clouds. I am strolling along the telegraph
road by an old stone fence, when a pair of Meadow Larks
i^Sturndla magna) light on the fence a few rods from me,
scarcely able to stand up against the wind. They are occa-
sionally seen here throughout the winter.

For the most part, however, this is a migratory bird,
entering the Middle States, New England, and correspond-
ing latitudes about the second week in March, and going
south in flocks with the later migrations to spend the
winter in the Southern States. Here, according to Wilson,
at this time of year, " they swarm among the rice planta-
tions, running about the yards and out-houses, accompanied
by the Killdeers, with little ap-pearance of fear, as if quite
domesticated."

In the wet, chilly days of March we are forcibly reminded
that spring is here by the clear, sweet, but plaintive warble,
which comes in soft, whistling tones from meadow and
pasture, wee-tsee-tsee-ree-ce, tsce-i'-ee-tsce-rce-cc. The strange
flight, too, consisting of a few tremulous, vibrating strokes
of the wings, succeeded by a short sailing, clearly distin-
guishes the Meadow Lark. What strange impulse is it
which starts this bird thus early northward to buffet

THE MEADOW LARK. 85

benumbing winds and rains? Had we the wings of a bird,
would we not then fly away to sunnier climes and be at rest ?

Always a bird of the fields, hence sometimes called " Old
Field Lark," on its arrival it keeps to the ground, the
stone heaps, and the fence. As the period of mating and
nidification approaches, the male becomes quite noisy.
Launching into the air at a considerable height, instead of
his whistling warble, he gives vent to a loud, guttural twitter.
Frequently alighting in solitary trees about the field, he
steps back and forth, and jerks and spreads his tail in the
most uneasy and excited manner. The female, meanwhile,
seems shy and retiring, and frequently needs a good deal of
coaxing on the part of the male; but in due time receives
his amorous attentions with the utmost complacency.

Though this species breeds in Florida already in the latter
part of April, nidification does not begin here till the middle
or latter part of May. In the case of a most typical nest, an
excavation is made in a tussock of grass; coarse dried
grasses are duly arranged as a frame-work, and the lining
is of fine grasses, while the dried grasses of the previous
year, still standing around the excavation, are matted and
arranged overhead with other material, so as to form a roof
open on one side. In this cozy home are placed four or five
white eggs, a little larger than those of a Robbin, about
1.10 X .80, speckled, and sometimes blotched, with reddish-
brown and lilac. Sometimes, however, the nest is quite
exposed, like that of a Bay-winged Sparrow. In New York
State a second brood may be raised. The young are most
tenderly cared for by the parents for weeks after being able
to fly; indeed, up to the period of migration the whole
family generally keep together. When caring for their
young the parent birds have a peculiar note, which sounds
like quaip, qiiaip.

86 THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER.

In the beautiful days of October the male often indulges
in his delicious warble. At this time the moult has some-
what changed his appearance. The brown tips and mark-
ings of the black feathers above, the more perfect fringes
of very light brown, which adorn all the dark plumage, as
well as the various light markings about the head, are all of
a warmer, redder tint, while the bright-yellow underneath,
and especially the jet-black and somewhat heart-shaped
collar on the breast, are so deeply fringed with reddish as
to render them somewhat obscure. In plumage, voice and
nidification, this bird resembles the Lark, but in structure,
it is more properly an American Starling. On the prairies
and plains of the far west there is a lighter-colored variety,
said to differ in song; while in South America, there is a
beautiful Red-breasted Lark, similar to ours in form, size,
and marking.

The Meadow Lark's long-pointed bill and enormous legs
and feet may be regarded as indicative of its ground-life
and insect diet. Though seeming to be a rather awkwardly-
shaped bird when examined in the hand, it often takes an
attitude when alighting, especially if on a rock, which is
exceedingly graceful.

Breeding in Texas and Florida northward as far as the
Columbia and the Saskatchawan rivers, Mr. Everett Smith
reports it as "common in western Maine;" and adds, "not
common east of the Kennebeck Valley, and almost unknown
east of the Penobscot Valley. Much less abundant in the
western part of the State now than twenty years ago," Mr.
Chamberlain notes it as " a rare summer resident " in New
Brunswick.

THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER. ,

I pass on to the woods and meet a striking object but
occasionally seen in our winter landscape, the Red-headed

THE BROWN CREEPER. 87

Woodpecker {Mcianerpcs erythroccphalus). About the size of
most of its relatives in this locality, some 9.50 long,
with bright-scarlet head and neck, upper parts black with
steel-blue reflections, except the rump and secondaries,
which, like the under parts, are white, it is so well known
as to need but little description. This bird is a common
resident here during the summer, and, in most respects, is
so like other Woodpeckers in habit as to need but little
special history in a work like this. Its partiality to road-
sides, its striking coloration of red, white and black, making
it one of the most strikingly beautiful bird-ornaments of
our landscape, and its excessive fondness for fruit, especially
cherries, are its most marked peculiarities. Its ordinary
call, ker-er-er-er-er^ when rollicking in the tree-tops, is very
characteristic.

THE BROWN CREEPER.

The Red-head passes out of sight, and for a while all is
silent. Hark! there is a soft conversational twitter among
the hemlocks. I wait patiently, and strain my eyes in this
direction and that, but for some minutes can see nothing.
Presently a troop of Chickadees appear; then several White-
bellied Nuthatches, uttering a soft kip^ kip, kip, and an
occasional sonorous quank, quank, pass by in their usual
spirited manner; and, while they are yet passing, two Brown
Creepers {Certhia familiaris) come in sight. Lighting at the
base of the trees, they ascend them by dainty little jerks in
a spiral manner, gleaning food as they go, uttering an
occasional soft chip, or a quick sJwee-shree-shreej often flit-
ting away from a tree before ascending very high, in order
to begin the ascent at the base of another, which, this time,
perhaps, will be continued to the top. How well the color
of this little bird, a variety of rich browns curiously marked
— the white underneath being out of sight — corresponds

88 THE BROWN CREEPER.

with the colors of this open winter. Its long, slender bill,
much curved, is well adapted to picking insects and their
larvae from the crevices of the bark, while the sharp claws
and rigid-pointed tail-feathers are a sufficient support to the
ascending movements. It is too graceful and dignified ever
to hang head-downward like Nuthatches and Titmice. It
is also rather shy, frequently keeping the opposite side of the
tree on seeing the observer, and then it is necessary to get
behind a tree also, and, looking for it some distance higher
than the point where it disappeared, one may get a glimpse
of it again. Its flight is very nervous and quick. In spring
it will be much more numerous, as the greater number of
this species passes south in autumn and north i-n spring,
when it has a soft and melodious song.

It is now well made out that the ordinary nesting-place of
this species is behind a loose strip of bark on a dead tree or
a stub, fromi five to fifteen feet from the ground. Composed
externally of dried twigs arranged lengthwise between the
bare mast-like trunk and the loosened bark, and so assum-
ing a crescent form elevated at both ends and depressed
in the middle, the interior and bulk of the nest are of shreds
of the inner bark of various trees, with, perhaps, some
usnea and spider's cocoons, and lined with still finer shreds
of bark or with feathers. If the bark is so close to the
tree as barely to admit the nest, the external structure of
twigs is dispensed with. The tree or stub chosen is gen-
erally of the pine or fir, and is nearly denuded of bark.
The eggs, generally five or six, averaging .59 X .48, are
delicate white, rosy when fresh, finely marked with brown
and purplish-brown. They resemble those of the Titmice
and Nuthatches.

This diminutive species, some 5.50 long, is at home alike
in Europe and throughout North A??ierua.

THE GREAT HORNED OWL. 89

THE GREAT HORNED OWL.

Our four seasons, spring, summer, autumn and winter, are
not divided by exact lines. There is no perceptible differ-
ence between the last of May and the first of June, nor between
the last of August and the first of September; and the melt-
ing power of spring is in the air, even in our climate, long
before the last of February. The birds do not begin to
make their appearance from the south, indeed, until some
time in March; yet there is one common resident, which
breeds already in February, becoming conscious, perhaps,
of the genial influence of the first melting rays of the sun.
About the middle of the last-named month a youth brought
me a large, living female of the Great Horned Owl {Bubo
virginianus)^ which had been winged while on the nest; and
he had also secured the eggs. The nest w^as a huge pile of
sticks, placed very high in a beech tree; the eggs, two in
number, some 2.25 X 2.00, were roundish, smooth, and of a
dull but clear white. The nest is said to be found some-
times in a hollow tree, or even in the cleft of a rock, but
generally in a tall pine or hemlock, and to be generally
" lined with dry leaves and a few feathers," the eggs being
sometimes as many as six. Twenty inches or two feet in
length, tawny or whitish, variously mottled w4th brown
and black; with a large, white patch on the throat, large
ear-tufts and bright-yellow irides; his is a large, homely
form, patched and spotted with the plainest of colors, and
having a face like that of a lynx rather than of a bird. Nor are
his habits any more agreeable than his personal appearance.
Most formidable as to bill and claws, he is a sly, destructive
bird of prey, even to the devastation of the poultry-yard.
Wilson tells the following amusing anecdote about him:
"A very large one, wing broken, * * * ^^g kept
about the house for several days, and at length disappeared,

90 THE GREA T HORNED WL,

no one knew how. Almost every day after this hens and
chickens also disappeared, one by one, in an unaccountable
manner, till, in eight or ten days, very few were left remain-
ing. The fox, the minx, and weasel were alternately the
reputed authors of this mischief, until one morning, the
old lady herself, rising before day to bake, in passing
towards the oven, surprised her late prisoner, the Owl,
regaling himself on the body of a newly-killed hen! The
thief instantly made for his hole under the house, from
whence the enraged matron soon dislodged him with the
brush-handle, and without mercy dispatched him. In this
snug retreat were found the greater part of the feathers,
and many large fragments of her whole family of chickens."

In confinement the Great Horned Owl is simply horrible.
He will squint and scowl at one in the most ominous man-
ner; and again turning his eyes into very balls of fire, will
snap at one like a cross dog, hiss like an angry cat, and
strike his claws at one with the most murderous force. Did
I not once see a large dog rush around the house in perfect
desperation, in the attempt to disengage the claws of this
bird from both sides of his head?

If reared from the nest, however, he may become quite
docile and friendly. Mr. Bruce, of Brockport, has one such,
which, on being greeted with a bow by his master, will bow
and blink most obsequiously in return, and will even reach
out his foot to shake hands. One now in the large museum
at Drummondville, Ontario, opposite Niagara Falls, will
boo-hoo and baiul^ after the most hideous manner of his wonted
midnight carnivals in the forest, in answer to the conver-
sation and questions of his keeper.

Concerning the courtship of this bird, Audubon says:
" The curious evolutions of the male in the air, or his
motions when he has alighted near his beloved, it is impos-

THE RED-T AILED HAWK. gj

sible to describe. His bowings and the snappings of his bill
are extremely ludicrous; and no sooner is the female assured
that the attentions paid her by the beau are the result of a
sincere affection than she joins in the motions of her future
mate."

How Of How Of Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! These, with many
other screaming and choking sounds to one who has heard
them, and has both a good memory and a good imagination,
may be especially significant. But of all the sounds with
which this bird makes night hideous, no one has heard any
to the greatest advantage, unless, passing through some dis-
mal forest in the full blackness of night, he has heard the
alarm sounded suddenly in the tree-tops above him.

No one need fail of the acquaintance of the Great Horned
Owl, for he is abundant, and the whole continent is his
habitat.

THE RED-TAILED HAWK.

It is the last of February. The ground is frozen hard; a
light fall of snow during the previous night has but covered
the earth, and the sun has started on his career through the
heavens without a cloud to obscure his pathway. Gun in
hand, I have entered the nearest woods, and am crossing the
course of a run, smoothly frozen over, when I break through
the shell-ice, and from the dry region beneath the Gray
Rabbit {Lepus sylvaticus) springs out through the opening at
my feet, and squats on a log only a few feet from me. I
attempt to fire, but the gun will not go off. I spoil several
caps, and go home to see w^hat the matter is, well knowing
that I can track my game in the new snow for some time to
come. I am chagrined at the loss of the Rabbit, but am
diverted by the flight of a Red-tailed Hawk {Buteo borealis),
w^hich, high in air, seems to be enjoying this delightful
morning.

92 THE RED- TAILED HA WK.

How much there is in the flight of a bird! Full well has
the Duke of Argyll seized upon it as an unmistakable evi-
dence of design in nature. From the fish darting through
the pathless waters, or the serpent gliding without legs or
feet along the ground, or the frog leaping with surprising
elasticity, or the stately stepping of the steed, up through
all the various styles and methods of animal locomotion, to
the eagle which soars above the clouds, the flight of birds
is by far the most interesting and wonderful. How that
Hawk floats like something ethereal in the atmosphere! His
lungs affording communication with a system of large cavi-
ties throughout the body, the bones and muscles, even, and
the spaces between the body and the skin being pervaded
by the ramifications of air-cells, every respiration literally
fills him; and this inhaled air being rarefied by the heat of
his body, not to speak of the innumerable interspaces of
the light plumage, all pervaded by the external air, he is
almost as light as the clouds themselves. If the reader has
ever climbed a mountain, and known the intoxication of
delightful sensations produced by a rarefied atmosphere, he
may form some conception of what must be the pleasurable
sensations of this soaring creature.

As to the act of flight itself, the upper side of the wing
being convex, and the wing somewhat drawn together, the
upward stroke in flight meets but little resistance, while the
under side, which is concave, incloses the atmosphere in the
downward stroke of the fully-extended wing, and so secures
the full force of its elasticity. This, however, simply
enables the bird to rise. What carries it forward ? The air,
escaping behind the long, elastic pinions, drives it on, some-
what as the wind, escaping behind the sail, propels the boat.
The saiU?ig of the bird, with steady, motionless wings, is
accomplished by a nice adjustment of the wing to the

THE RED-TAILED HAWK, 93

breeze, precisely like the trimming of a sail. But to hover
is the most wonderful feat of the bird — to make rapid
strokes with the wings, and yet remain at the same point in
the air. Who has not seen the King-fisher, or the Spar-
row Hawk hover ? or the Humming-bird, as it poises itself
in front of the flower, to capture the insects housed in its
beautiful chambers, or to sip its nectar? This is done by an
oblique stroke of the wings. The bird is never in a horizontal
position in hovering, but always poised at an angle, thus
allowing the air to escape from the wing in such a manner
as simply to keep it up. Here is design, indeed, but also
something still higher; the thought of flight must have
preceded the nice adjusting of the structure and functions
of the wing to the aerial laws. But there is no thought
without a thinker; hence the flight of the Hawk carries my
mind up to the Great Creator. And is this not a great
lesson taught in a most pleasing manner? Who could not
derive pleasure in beholding such majestic soaring, such
grand spiral curves of immense sweep, such sublime eleva-
tion, till the bird becomes a mere speck against the ether? I
cannot think of any bird short of the Eagle whose flight can
equal this in elegance and grandeur. It is the very poetry
of motion. What can the bird be thinking of at such a
time? Is it not enjoying that animated existence, the very
consciousness of which, in its normal state, is bliss? Great
lesson to unsatisfied human nature.

Here let us quote a few lines from John Burroughs: " The
calmness and dignity of this Hawk, when attacked by the
Crows or the King-bird, are well worthy of him. He seldom
deigns to notice his noisy and furious antagonists, but
deliberately wheels about in that aerial spiral, and mounts
and mounts till his pursuers grow dizzy and return to the
earth again. It is quite original, this mode of getting rid of

94 THE KED-TAILED HAWK.

an unworthy opponent, rising to heights where the braggart
is dazed and bewildered and loses his reckoning! I am not
sure but it is worthy of imitation."

The tube of my shot-gun cleared, I return early in the
afternoon in search of the Gray Rabbit. I have no difficulty
in tracing his track in the fresh snow, but what a zigzag
course he has taken! I seem to have traveled miles, and
3'et am only a few rods from the place of starting. Alas!
poor Rabbit! I have reached the end of his career, and find
simply a great spot of blood on the snow, with bunches of
hair and a few bones. While I am trying to conjecture the
author of this tragedy, I look up to the top of a tall tree
quite near and spy a Red-tailed Hawk motionless as a
statue. He is probably the one I saw soaring so majesti-
cally a few hours ago, and is now resting in favor of diges-
tion, after gorging himself with the missing Rabbit, Some-
w^hat annoyed at the extent of the meal, but more over the
loss of my game, I take aim and bring him to the ground.
He must lose his life in penalty of gluttony. Ordinarily,
he would not have allowed the hunter to come near enough
to reach him with a shot-gun. He is only wounded, how-
ever, and rearing himself on claws and tail, assumes a most
formidable attitude of defense. With superciliary ridges
projecting far over his eyes, which gleam with vengeance,
with mouth wide open and crest erect, what a savage physi-
ognomy he presents! And in w^hat a threatening manner
he raises his powerful wings! ^ Hands off/'' is the language
of his whole expression, as bill, wings and claws are in equal
readiness for blows and wounds. I extend to him the
muzzle of the gun, which he grasps so firmly with both
talons that I carry him home before he relinquishes his
hold. Nailing slats across a large box, I attempt to keep
my bird in confinement, placing food before him regularly,

THE RED-TAILED HAWK. 95

and showing him every possible attention ; but, like a genuine
savage, he will neither eat nor show any sign of grief or
submission. And yet I must admire him, for he finally dies
without any yielding of spirit, without any disposition
whatever to become a slave.

The Hawks, as a group belonging to the birds of prey,
are placed between the Owls and the Vultures. The Hawks
again, according to their structure, are naturally arranged into
Harriers, Falcons, True-hawks, Buzzards and Fish-hawks.
The Red-tailed Hawk, often called the Hen Hawk, is a
Buzzard, and, like the rest of the Buzzards, is so nearly
related to the Eagle as to afford very little structural dif-
ference. In dignity of habit this Hawk, as well as some
others, stands above the Eagle. The latter is often a notori-
ous thief, wresting the hard-earned prey from other birds,
or even condescending to the most putrid carrion, while the
Hawks in general capture their own prey. The fare of the
Red-tailed Hawk is quite in keeping with his dignified
bearing, consisting generally of hares, squirrels, birds, barn-
yard fowl, frogs, or a fancy snake. In search of the latter,
or perhaps even of mice, you may sometimes see him scour-
ing the meadows somewhat in the manner of the Marsh
Hawk. Generally, however, with a keen-sightedness w^hich
is perfectly marvelous, he descries his prey from the
enormous height of his spiral sailing, sometimes dropping
almost meteor-like, and then suddenly checking himself, he
seizes his quarry unawares; or he alights on it from some
perch near by, whence he has been reconnoitering an im-
mense reach of territory. On the whole, if it were not for
his depredations on the poultry-yard, we should think more
of him than of any other bird of prey. The natural adap-
tation of this class of birds to a life of cruelty makes them
repulsive to the tenderer feelings, unless, indeed, we conceive

90 THE RED-TAILED HAWK.

that the perfection of nature's variety needs a cruel phase,
just as the various shades of light and of color need dark-
ness for their perfection.

The Red-tailed Hawk is nearly two feet in length; the
color above is a rich dark-brown, the wings and upper tail-
coverts marked and barred with dusky and w^hite; the tail is
generally bright chestnut-red, sometimes margined with
white, always sub-margined with black reddish-gray be-
neath; the under parts generally white, with a zone of
brown markings across the breast. The cere, legs and feet
are bright-yellow. This may be regarded as the ordinary
marking of the mature bird. It varies greatly, however,
with age. The male is several inches shorter than the
female.

In Western New York, the Red-tailed Hawk lays its eggs
in March or April. The eggs, three in number, of a nest
taken the 27th of March, are now before me. One of my
parishioners discovered it in a large beech tree, only a few
rods from his sugar-camp, where he was busy every day
gathering and boiling sap, the birds not seeming in the least
disturbed by the business. The nest, equal in bulk to a
bushel-basket, composed of sticks rudely piled, lined with
fine strips of the inner bark of ash rails in a slashing near
by, was in the fork of a large limb, about fifteen feet from
the trunk, and about a hundred and twenty feet from the
ground. A truly perilous undertaking was this ascent, and
yet a young friend kindly volunteered his services, saying,
with a very suggestive look: " If I fall and break my bones,
you must pay the doctor's bill; if I kill myself, you must
pay my funeral expenses." The eggs, about 2.25 long by
rather less than 1.90 broad, are roundish, one end a little
smaller than the other, greenish-white, two dimly scratched
and spotted with a purplish-brown, while all are more or

THE RED-TAILED HAWK. 97

less sparingly marked with a muddy-brown, the latter color-
ing, in the case of the otherwise clear ^%%y seeming very
like slight smirchings of dirt. On the whole, they are rather
pretty. Another nest, taken a few days later, contained two
eggs not quite so round, and having the dark-brown markings
heavier and more numerous. The nest was similarly placed.
In the latter part of March, of 1874, a nest was found in the
top of a tall elm tree in the woods near Knowlesville. Two
young men undertook to capture the Hawk. The one fired
at the nest, and, holding his piece rather carelessly, found it
sticking in the mud behind him; the other succeeded in
taking the female bird on the wing as she left her eyrie.
The male now sat on the eggs for a time, but was too
wary to allow an approach within gun-shot, and left after a
few days. In all of the above cases the birds seem to have
raised their young in the same locality for a series of years.

The note of the Red-tailed Hawk, most commonly heard,
as he sails high in the air, in the bright days of summer, and
expressed, perhaps, by the syllables k'shee-o, k'shee-o, well
drawn out, is rather harsh and squealing, but when uttered
while the female cuts her grand circles above the nest, as it
is being disturbed, it is even pathetic.

This bird may be found in Western New York throughout
the year ; and from the last of February or the first ot
March till late in autumn, it is our most common Hawk.
Its habitat is all North America, and even Mexico and
some of the West India Islands.

Similar in form to the above, but a little larger, and dis-
tinguishable by the ''tarsus feathered in front for more
than half its length," and by the four outer quills " incised
on the inner webs," is that rare southern species — Harlan's
Hawk [Bueto harlani). It is, however, a little larger, and
appears darker. " General colors throughout, dark, sooty-
7

98 THE RED-TAILED HAWK.

brown, with the wings, excepting tips of primaries, finely
but irregularly barred with ashy-brown and whitish. The
tail is mottled with ashy-brown, which becomes decidedly
rufous next to the shaft of the subterminal portion of the
feathers. Below, the feathers of the flanks and under the
tail coverts are obscurely banded with ashy-brown. The
basal two-thirds of the feathers on head, neck, all around,
and breast to middle of body, are pure white." {Maynard).

This fine bird was first found in Louisiana by Audubon.
' As none were found for many years afterward, its validity
as a species was doubted. More recently some half-dozen
specimens have been found, some as far north as Pennsyl-
vania, but more of them in Texas. It is now regarded as
a well-defined species.

The Red-shouldered Hawk {Biiteo lineatus) — male, some
19.00 long; female, 22.00 — is nearly as long as the former
species to which it is very closely related, but it is not nearly
as heavy. Reddish-brown above the feathers, dark-centered,
lighter shade of the same below, with narrow streaks of
darker and bars of white, the blackish tail noticeably banded
with white, shoulder of the wing orange-brown. Young,
plain brown above, white below dark-streaked. This species
is every way similar in habit to the Red-tail. Very abund-
ant along the Atlantic Coast and in the Atlantic States
generally, it becomes rare already in the Maritime prov-
inces, and is not common to the westward. It is either rare
or overlooked in Western New York.

Swainson's Hawk (Biiteo swainsoni), a northwestern species,
breeding rarely in Illinois, and straggling to Montreal and
Massachusetts, must be noticed here. The 7?iale, some 19.50
long, and 48.00 in extent, is dark-brown above, lighter on
head, darker on wings, and ashy on tail, the feathers,
especially on neck, more or less edged with reddish. Wings

THE RED-TAILED HAWK. 99

and tail crossed with wary bars of dusky, the latter tipped
with whitish. Concealed patch on back of head, white;
sides white, barred with reddish and dark-brown; white
beneath, tinged below the throat with reddish-yellow, the
breast barred with reddish-brown; under wing coverts
tipped with black. There is also a darker form. The
female^ some 20.10 long and 48.75 in extent, is similarly
marked, but much darker. This species sometimes builds
its nest in shrubbery.

The Broad-winged Hawk i^Biiteo pemisylvanicus) is a com-
mon eastern species. The male^ some 15.25 long and 35.00
in extent, is brown above, the feathers edged with reddish;
head and neck streaked with white; tail with a broad, red-
dish-gray band a little more than an inch from the tip, a
narrow band of the same nearer the base, and tipped with
same; under parts white, or buffy- white, broadly cross-
barred and variously marked with light-brown. Female^ an
inch or so longer, and similarly marked. This fine little
Hawk is generally distributed throughout the Eastern
States in summer, and winters to the south. Its food is
mostly the smaller birds and quadrupeds, which it captures
for the most part among the bushes or on the ground. Like
the rest of the Buteos^ it is quite given to sailing in flight,
but not in such grand, sweeping curves as those of its larger
congeners. It is, perhaps, one of the most unwary of all
our Hawks, and, with a little caution, may be approached
quite closely. It nests in trees, constructing quite a bulky
nest of sticks and twigs externally, and lined with leaves
and shreds of bark. Generally an evergreen tree is pre-
ferred. The eggs, three or four, some 2.10 x 1-65 elliptical
or roundish, are of a dirty white color, blurred or blotched
with reddish-brown. Sometimes they are almost white.

CHAPTER VI.

VOICES OF SPRING.

IN the Middle States the entire month of March is a tem-
pestuous conflict between the icy cold of winter and
the power of a vernal sun. Yet even the first week of this
month may have its days of genial warmth, when the earth,
reeking from the relenting frost, woos the coming spring.
Such is this third day of March, w^hen lo! a voice salutes me,
which is the very soul of tenderness. I can scarcely tell
whether sadness or joy the more prevails in its soft warb-
lings, so strictly is it in harmony with these unsettled days.
It is the voice of the Bluebird {Sialia siaiis). Appearing
here the last week in February or the first week in March,
the '^ color " of the sky " on his back " and the " hue " of the
earth "on his breast," he may well inspire hope and courage
in every heart. Who does not welcome the Bluebird ?
Like the sweet-scented trailing arbutus, which they called
the May-flower, the arrival of the Bluebird cheered the
fainting spirits of the first settlers of Massachusetts after a
long and dreadful winter; and, associating him in some way
with the Robin-redbreast of Europe, they called shim the
Blue Robin. Some 6.50-7.00 long, the upper parts of the
male are a beautiful, bright, ultra-marine blue ; throat,
breast and sides chestnut-red ; belly white. The female is
similar, but more or less tinged with dull gray above. The
young resemble the old, but, with a light fringed plumage
above, are trulv beautiful.

THE BLUEBIRD. 101

All through March, but especially through April, the
bright colors and soft, clear warble of the Bluebird are
inseparably associated with our landscape. The females,
arriving some time after the males, about the middle of
April, there is a modest courtship, resulting in pairing and
immediate preparation for nesting. As the female first
appears and alights on the fence, the males may appear one
on each side of her, each vying with the other in attractive
demonstrations. They raise their wings with a graceful,
trembling motion, warble most significantly, and sidle
towards her. Perchance she disdains them both, and as she
flies away they both pursue her. A spirited contest between
the males may now occur, or the female accepting the over-
tures of the one, the other will quietly retire. The mating
over, the warbling grows more cheerful. Boxes, deserted
Woodpeckers' holes, and natural cavities in posts, stubs,
and especially about the trees of the orchard, or even an
opening in the cornice of the house, are all explored, the
female constantly leading, and the male attending with a
great deal of gallant ceremony and music. Cheerily., cheej'ily,
is his constant theme, with more or less variation, as the
quiet and industrious housewife lugs in the various soft
materials — mostly dried grasses — for bedding the nest.
The eggs, from four to six, and about the size of those of a
Bay-winged Sparrow, some .85 x .62, are of a clear pale-
blue. As soon as the young are able to fly, the male takes
them in charge, and the female starts a second brood, and
sometimes in like manner a third. During all this time
their destruction of insects, which constitute their chief
diet, is immense.

This season I had a good opportunity of watching the
incubation of a nest made in the mortise of an old fancy
post, the remains of a former fence in a front yard, the mor-

102 THE ROBIN.

tise having been enlarged by decay. The nest was neatly
made of dried grasses, and the five eggs were real gems.
Incubation lasted about ten days. Another nest was made
in the tool-box of a reaper, which had been left in the
field from Saturday till Thursday, the lid of the box having
been kept open by the handle of a wrench. The nest had
been built in this short time, and one ^^^ had been laid.

After incubation is begun the male becomes almost silent,
and remains so during the summer. Some time in Novem-
ber the family groups leave for the south, having then a
single plaintive note, wholly unlike the warble of spring,
and quite as well in keeping with the gloom of autumn.
The plumage now, too, is more or less mixed with a cold gray,
thus making the harmony with the bleakness of nature the
more perfect.

The Bluebird spends the winter in the Southern States,
sometimes going even further south; and in its northern
migrations goes scarcely beyond New England, in the
northern part of which it already becomes uncommon.

From the eastern foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains west-
ward to the Pacific are two closely-allied species called the
Western Bluebird and the Rocky Mountain Bluebird, the
latter being more common in the mountainous region indi-
cated by its name. The former has the throat-blue, and a
chestnut spot on the back; the latter, which is of a greenish
shade, has the under parts similar to the upper, only lighter,
fading into white on the belly.

THE ROBIN.

On this same 3d of March, so full of brightness and
warmth, I meet the first Robins of the year. I hear their
abrupt, vigorous, clear note before I see them. This note,
though resembling that of various Thrushes, has a ring all

THE ROBIN. 103

its own, and is in keeping with the bird itself, which, in
every respect is energetic, hardy, plain and blunt. It is
particularly his note of a beautiful spring evening, hence it
has been designated his "evening call." If those most
elegant songsters, the Thrushes, members of his own
family, keeping so closely to the thick forests, and scarcely
allowing the closest observer to get a glimpse of them while
they sing, may remind one of people of refined and reserved
habits, and "distant, high-bred ways," then surely the
Robin must recall the inartistic manners of the more com-
mon people. His is the air of a vigorous, robust pioneer.

Though sometimes here by the latter part of February,
and soon becoming one of the most numerous birds of the
season, he gives hardly anything worthy to be called a song
till near the first of April. Then his loud, clear warble, if
somewhat monotonous and less expressive of sentiment
than that of the Wood-thrush or the Hermit, is a most
grateful breaking of the stillness of winter, a mitigation of
sharp frosts and chill showers — April showers always tune
him up — a never-failing promise of all the joy and plenty of
the year. Then truly he makes "the outgoings of the even-
ing and the morning to rejoice." What would an American
spring be without the song of the Robin ?

The ragged and faded appearance of the Robin in mid-
summer, after the excessive cares incident to the rearing of
two or three families, is but a poor apology for his modest
but truly beautiful colors of dark-gray, black and golden-
brown, in these days of early spring. Even Mrs. Robin,
though not so dark and rich in tints as her consort, is a real
model of plain and tasteful elegance.

The farmer or gardener, notwithstanding certain reminis-
cences of destruction of ripe cherries and luscious strawber-
ries, cannot but be convinced of the friendship and co-oper-

104 THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER.

ation of the Robin, as he sees him scouring meadows
and pastures in search of insects in general. It would be
impossible to estimate his labors in keeping in check the
voraciousness of insect-life.

In this locality Robin's beautiful blue-green eggs, from
three to five, may be laid already by the middle of April;
the nest being a rough affair of stubble, coarse hay and mud,
lined with finer hay, and placed anywhere between the
ground and the top of a tree. The young resemble the
old, except that the breast is pale and spotted with black
and white. The parents are very noisy in defense of their
nest or young.

Already in September the Robins begin to gather, with a
great deal of hurry, and bustle, and noise, and, flying to and
fro, in preparation for their southw^ard migration, continue
their leave-taking in companies till late in the fall.

On the bright October evenings of last year (1879), when
the cloudless sky wore every tint of rose, violet, orange, yellow,
and green, all most delicately shaded into each other from
horizon to zenith, I used to lie down in the field and watch
the Robins constantly passing south, with steady stroke of
wing and high in air, sometimes singly, sometimes in pairs,
sometimes in small companies.

Some 9-10 inches long; upper parts generally dark-
gray; head and tail blackish; spots around the eye, under
the chin and on the tips of the outer tail-feathers, and the
vent white; breast and under parts golden-brown.

This bird is characteristic of all North America, and to the
south extends a little beyond. In mild winters it may
remain with us in sheltered places.

THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER.

It is the 5th of March, and I am in the woods on a most

THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER.

105

sad errand. A dear friend, and in every way a most noble
man, has been instantly killed by a falling tree, and, desir-
ous to know every possible particular concerning the event,

■■'Mliifiii^— '

THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER.

I am carefully studying the spot. Looking up into the tall
tree-tops, whence came the fatal limb, my mind is, if
possible, momentarily diverted by the sight of a bird seldom
seen in this locality, or in any of the more northern districts,
though it is said to be very common south of 35°. It is
the Red-bellied Woodpecker {Centurus caroltnus), the most
beautiful of all the smaller species of its tribe in this
locality. This is a fine male. Somewhat larger than the
Hairy Woodpecker, some 10 long and 17 in extent, he has
a broad strip of glossy crimson, extending from the bill

K)6 THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER,

over the head and hind neck, the rest of the head, neck
and under parts a beautiful light-ash color, with a tinge of
red on the belly, whence the common name; the upper
parts jet-black, with fine concentric lines and rows of spots
of pure white; eyes red. The female differs mainly in the
absence of the red on the top of the head, that mark extend-
ing only up the back of the neck to the occiput.

This bird has a hoarse note, resembling chaw, chaw, and
has a nest and eggs like those of the rest of the Wood-
peckers. It is a common resident throughout the year in
Northeastern Ohio, where I have seen its nest about the
middle of May.

CHAPTER Vri.
THE BLUFF AND THE CAT-TAILS.

BEFORE studying the matter, it would not occur to one
how different the plants and animals are the world over.
Each individual has its particular locality or habitat.
Sometimes, as in the case of certain species of Humming-
birds, that habitat is a single island or mountain; again, as
in the case of the Duck Hawk or Osprey, it is, in its various
allied forms, nearly or quite cosmopolitical. Generally,
however^ great mountains and seas or changes of climate
bound these habitats. For instance, in Eastern North
America we have a certain set of birds, extending from the
Atlantic Coast westward to the Rocky Mountains; but from
this great mountain system, running north and south the
entire length of the continent, to the Pacific Coast, there
is found another set, generally more or less allied to ours
indeed, but for the most part specifically different. Again,
we have certain species peculiar to the northern, and others
peculiar to the southern, latitudes ; and between the plants
and animals of the several continents the difference is gener-
ally very great. What is true of space, in this respect, is still
truer of time. In respect to the fauna of the various geological
ages, the differentiation is indeed immense. But all these
vast varieties of form are built on certain fixed plans of
structure. The great classes, orders, and families have
their representatives everywhere; and, while these types of

108

THE RED-IVINGED BLACKBIRD.

Structure have been generally progressive in the order of
time, in the lower forms of animal life there are some
genera which seem to have stood almost from the first
dawn of life to the present time. A careful bound-
ing of the localities occupied by the various animals and
plants constitutes the science of their geographical distri-
bution.

In respect to the great class of birds, the whole world
has its Owls, Hawks, Vultures, Sparrows, Shrikes, Starlings,
etc.; but the species differs in different parts of the world.

THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD.

In the most typical sense the Starlings are confined to
the Old World; but, by a little broader generalization,
many birds of our own country may be included under that

THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD.

head. For instance, on this 7th of March, as I stand just
south of a bluff, by the margin of a cat-tail swamp, I see a
large flock of the so-called Red-winged Starlings or Black-

THE RED-lViyCED BLACKBIRD. jqq

birds {Agelceus phceniceus). They are sometimes here a
week earlier, and are always partial to the cat-tails.
Indeed, this species is strictly an ornament and appurte-
nance of the swamp. The male, somewhat smaller than a
Robin, 8 or 9 inches long, is clad in a rich jet-black from
tip to toe, except the shoulders of his wings, which are of a
bright glossy-scarlet, with a margin of light orange. He
is a strikingly beautiful object on this gray and naked
landscape of the early spring. How spirited, too, he seems,
as he steps and flits about, jerking his tail, uttering his
familiar chuck, chuck, chuck, and every now and then adding
his distinctive '' o-kal-ree-e-e-e-e-ee," or '' lo-kal-o-ree-e-e-e-e-eey
Until the arrival of the female, which may not occur for
several weeks, he will appear exceedingly uneasy. About
this time he will take some conspicuous position in
the leafless trees or bushes, and spreading his wings and
tail by a jerking motion, and waltzing back and forth, and
bowing most gracefully, his wonted song becomes more
liquid and clear, interspersed with an occasional rattling
sound, ending in a loud, clear whistle. In color, the female
is very unlike her mate. Of a rich dark-brown, each feather
is margined with light-brown or brownish-white, the
margins being broadest and lightest on the breast and
underneath, thus making those parts appear noticeably
lighter. The young male is similar to the female, except
that the margin of the dark-brown feathers are ruddy, and
the shoulders of the wings of a beautiful red, mixed with
black. The young female is somewhat lighter than the
mother. In the autumn, when the black plumage of the
mature males is more or less fringed with light-brown, the
whole family make a truly beautiful group.

Early in May the nest is built somewhere in or about a
swamp, generally near the ground, but sometimes in a bush

no THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD.

or even in a tree; in my locality, for the most part, among
the cat-tails. I found the nests very abundant on St.
Clair Flats, built in the sedges over the water. It is a basket-
like structure, composed outwardly of coarse, flexible mate-
rials — commonly the dried leaves of the cat-tails and sedges
of the previous year — fastened near the base of the old
stalks still standing, and lined with fine dried grasses, or
occasionally with horse-hair. It belongs to the style of
bird-structures called "basket-nests." In this little swamp I
have sometimes found a nest every few rods, or even every
few feet. Then it is interesting to note the difference
between the several sets of eggs. Frequently more than an
inch long, they are often much less; now larger and quite
pointed, and now roundish; the delicate tinge of green
which makes the ground-color is darker or lighter; the
markings, in the form of pen-dashes, dots and blotches,
thick and heavy, or light and few, scattered over the entire
surface, in a wreath near the middle, or in a bunch at the
large end. These odd markings appear like the written
symbols of some strange language. The Red-wings gener-
ally breed more or less in communities. As with the rest
of the Icteridae family, the male is not accustomed to take
the nest, but is most assiduously attentive to the female
during incubation. Sometimes two broods are raised in a
season in this locality, the eggs of the first being laid in
May and those of the second in July.

In spring and early summer the destruction of insect-life by
the Red-winged Blackbirds is incalculable. Of this every far-
mer must be convinced, as he observes the flocks which search
the pastures and plowed grounds. The breeding season over,
they gather in immense noisy flocks, and are exceedingly de-
structive to corn and other grains; but, probably, in nowise
counteract the good they do in the earlier part of the year.

THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD. \\\

On the winter history of this bird in the Southern States,
Wilson has a very fine paragraph: "The Red-winged Star-
lings, though generally migratory in the states north of
Maryland, are found during winter in immense, flocks some-
times associated with the Purple Grakles, and often by
themselves, along the whole lower parts of Virginia, both
Carolinas, Georgia and Louisiana, particularly near the sea-
coast, and in the vicinity of large rice and corn fields. In
the months of January and February, while passing through
the former of these countries, I was frequently entertained
with the aerial evolutions of these great bodies of Starlings.
Sometimes they appeared driving about like an enormous
black cloud carried before the wind, varying its shape every
moment; sometimes suddenly rising from the fields around
me vv^ith a noise like thunder; while the glittering of innu-
merable wings of the brightest vermilion amid the black
cloud they formed produced on these occasions a very
striking and splendid effect. Then, descending like a tor-
rent, and covering the branches of some detached grove, or
clump of trees, the whole congregated multitude commenced
one general concert or chorus, that I have plainly distin-
guished at the distance of more than two miles, and, when
listened to at the intermediate space of about a quarter of a
mile, with a slight breeze of wind to swell and soften the
flow of its cadences, was to me grand, and even sublime.
The whole season of winter that, with most birds, is passed
in struggling to sustain life in silent melancholy, is, with the
Red-wings, one continued carnival. The profuse gleanings
of the old rice, corn, and buckwheat fields supply them with
abundant food, at once ready and nutritious; and the inter-
mediate time is spent either in aerial maneuvers or in
grand vocal performances, as if solicitous to supply the
absence of all the tuneful summer tribes, and to cheer the

112 THE CROW BLACKBIRD.

dejected face of nature with their whole combined powers
of harmony."

Habitat: " The typical form throughout temperate North
America, and south to Central America. Breeds in suitable
places from Texas to the Saskatchawan, and along the whole
Atlantic Coast. Winters from about 35° southward."
(Coues).

The Yellow-headed Blackbird is a western species, some-
times straggling eastward even to New England.

THE CROW BLACKBIRD.

The bluff above referred to is well clad with sumacs,
dogwoods, elders, etc. Here, on this same 7th of March,
but more particularly along the creek a few rods away, are
small flocks of the Purple Grakle, or Crow Blackbird {Qiiisca-
luspurpureus). They fly slowly from one bush to another, from
the bluff to the bushes along the creek, and then back to the
bluff again, their tails, folded downward in the middle, being
very conspicuous, and their constant chuck, chuck very like
that of the Red-wing, only in a little hoarser tone and on a
lower key. Like the latter, the former are quite partial to
swamps and streams, but are not quite so confined to them,
for they are frequently common about country door-yards
and village lots, especially such as abound in evergreens.
They are often abundant in cemeteries which are well orna-
mented with coniferae. If cat-tails are to be associated
with the Red-wings, evergreens are to be quite as much
associated with the Crow Blackbirds. Often, indeed, they
affect the shadowy recesses of the thickly-branched Lom-
bardy poplars. As the plowman turns his furrow this bird
forms a part of the newly-made landscape. Stepping along
the fresh, brown ridges with a peculiar gracefulness, his
brilliant hues, with a bright, metallic lustre, cannot fail to

THE CROW BLACKBIRD. 113

delight the eye. Blue, emerald, purple, and bronze, all
gleam and flash interchangeably in the sunshine. How
quick are those light-golden eyes to detect grubs, beetles,
chrysalids and worms! The male being about 12 inches or
more in length, the female is a good deal smaller, and for
the most part of a plain black, being wholly without the
lustre and changeableness of the male. In early spring
they often gather in quite large flocks, chattering and
whistling in a manner thoroughly noisy, if not somewhat
musical.

Their nest — made early in May, if not already in April,
and a rather bulky structure of sticks and coarse hay, more
particularly the latter, often cemented with mud, lined with
fine hay and some horse-hair — is placed either low or high in
a tree, an evergreen or Lombardy poplar being preferred;
and if the tree is large, it may contain a number of nests.
Wilson says: "A si-ngular attachment frequently takes place
between this bird and the Fish Hawk. The nest of this
latter is of very large dimensions, often from three to four
feet in breadth, and from four to five feet high; composed,
externaliy, of large sticks, or fagots, among the interstices
of which sometimes three or four pairs of Crow Blackbirds
will construct their nests, while the Hawk is sitting or
hatching above. Here each pursues the duties of incubation
and of rearing its young; living in the greatest harmony,
and mutually watching and protecting each other's property
from depredators." In the south Audubon says the nests of
these Blackbirds are generally placed in holes of trees —
often in a deserted Woodpecker's nest. The same manner
of nesting has recently been reported from some parts of
the north.

The eggs of the Crow Blackbird, some 1.20 X .82, and
four or five in number, are generally greenish, sometimes

114 THE CROW BLACKBIRD.

brownish, or of a dirty white, specked, spotted, scratched and
blotched, sometimes thickly, sometimes sparingly, with light
brown, or black. It seldom raises more than one brood
here.

As to this bird's destructiveness in the corn-field, every
one has heard and seen enough. Hence the merciless
slaughter which he meets, and the dangling of his dead
body in tei'7'07'ein. But if we are not to " muzzle the ox that
treadeth out the corn," let us take heed, lest we grudge the
Blackbird his corn unfairly. Some of the late ornithologists,
however, affirm that this bird, a near relative to the Crow in
habit as well as in appearance, is given to sucking other
birds' eggs and eating their young. If this be generally
proven against him he will smell more gunpowder than ever
before.

The Crow Blackbirds find their winter residence in the
Southern States. " Here," according to Wilson, " numerous
bodies, collecting together from all quarters of the interior
and northern districts, and darkening the air with their
numbers, sometimes form one congregated multitude of
many hundred thousands. A few miles from the banks of
the Roanoke, on the 20th of January, I met with one of
those prodigious armies of Grakles. They rose from the
surrounding fields with a noise like thunder, and, descend-
ing on the length of road before me, covered it and the
fences completely with black; and when they again rose,
and, after a few evolutions, descended on the skirts of the
high-timbered woods, at that time destitute of leaves, they
produced a most singular and striking effect; the whole
trees for a considerable extent, from the top to the lowest
branches, seemed as if hung in mourning; their notes and
screaming the meanwhile resembling the distant sound of a
great cataract, but in more musical cadence, swelling and

THE CEDAR BIRD. i . .

dying away on the ear, according to the fluctuations of the

breeze."

Habitat: Eastern North America, north to Labrador,

west to the Rocky Mountains, breeding throughout its

range. I saw none in ManitouHn Island and vicinity

As to the so-called Bronzed Grakle {Quiscalus purpureus
cBiieus), now differentiated by some, and supposed to breed
a little further north than the last described, I have had no
opportunity of discriminating. If, indeed, it be different
from the Common Crow Blackbird, it must be very similar.
The Boat-tailed Grakle of the south {Quiscalus major) is
scarcely more than the former on a larger pattern. About
16.00 long, it is about one-fourth larger, and its habits
are very similar. The flight is slow, straightforward, the
heavy boat-shaped tail seeming to tip the bird up in front.
It is noisy, and partial to the vicinity of water, often wading
for its molluscous diet. Its nests, which are in community
after the manner of its congener here and also its corvine
relations in the old world, is sometimes placed in a bush or
tree, but commonly in the tall saw-grass of the southern
marshes. The structure is large and coarse, is tied to the
grass-stems about four feet from the ground, and generally
contains three eggs, similar to those of the Crow Black-
bird, but larger— about 1.27 x .85. It winters in the
extreme Southern States, and reaches regularly the Carolinas
in summer.

THE CEDAR BIRD.

On the top of the bluff stands the first row of trees of a
large orchard. On one of these alights a flock of birds,
sometimes found here in small numbers even in winter, but
always appearing in flocks very early in spring. There are
some forty of them, and they move with the regularity of
a perfectly disciplined army, flying as compactly as pos-

116 THE CEDAR BIRD.

sible, and all having precisely the same motion, and alight-
ing so similarly that the attitude of one is the attitude of
the whole flock. Few things in the movement of bird-life
are more interesting than this perfect uniformity of motion
of a group of Cedar Birds {Ampelis cedroruni)^ as if one life
directed them all. How spirited and graceful they are! Some
six or seven inches long, slender, beautifully crested, the plum-
age remarkably blended and glossy; in color, a rich brown,
becoming reddish on the breast and about the head; chin,
forehead, and band across the eyes to occiput, black, partly
margined with a line of white; belly, yellow; under tail
coverts, white; wings, rump and tail, bluish-drab; darker
toward the end of the tail, which is margined with bright
sulphur-yellow; secondaries, generally tipped with flattened
appendages, the color of bright-red sealing-wax. The
female is similar to the m.ale, and the young differ but little.
Occasionally an old male is found with red, wax-like tips
on the tail feathers, or even on some of the feathers of the
crest.

As I watch the flock in the bright, warm sunshine they
become more careless in attitude and motion, and presently
become fly-catchers, making little circuits after their prey,
and seeming rather drowsy, for them. This fly-catching is
quite indicative of their habit in part; for despite their
frugivorous propensities, they destroy no small number of
insects at certain seasons of the year, especially the larvae
of the Canker Worm.

Watch these same Cedar Birds in some secluded dell
affording a rocky stream — watch them in the delicious
quiet and ruddy glow of the evening. How gracefully
they alight on the larger rocks rising above the surface of
the water; and, standing almost straight, with crests erect,
how noiselessly they describe their elegant circles in the

THE CEDAR BIRD. n ►.

midst of clouds of gnats and midges. You hear no snap-
ping of the bill, as in the case of Fly-catchers similarly
engaged, but each little detour signifies the destruction of
one or more of these tiny insects.

This imitation of the Fly-catchers the farmer will scarcely
admit, as he recalls the more destructive habits of this bird,
how he appears singly, or in large numbers, on the sweet
cherry-tree of early summer, pilfers blackberries and rasp-
berries, strips the rich, ornamental clusters from the mountain
ash; in short, fills himself with fruit to the very throat, even
dropping and dying, in some cases, of sheer gluttony— all
this without the least apology for a song— nothing in the
way of a note but a sly tseep, tseep, scarcely loud enough to
be a warning to the ordinary ear — nothing, in short, to
recommend him but his graceful carriage and fine clothes,
unless, indeed, the ornithologist can vindicate him as a
'' fly-catcher " and "worm-eater," and so secure a balance
of sentiment in his favor. This vindication we believe to be
possible. At any rate, as a beautiful ornament in nature,
he is entitled to some support, especially by those who
regard "a thing of beauty a joy forever." I never could
justify a certain old gentleman of my acquaintance who
shot eighty of these "orchard beauties" from a single
sweet cherry-tree in a few hours. I would rather have set
out more cherry-trees.

Strange to say, though this bird is here among the first,
and in large flocks, some few even remaining through the
winter, it does not ordinarily begin a nest till late in June
or in July, perhaps because the favorite fruits on which it
feeds its young, after a course of insects in their earliest
babyhood, are not sooner available. This nest is generally
in a tree in the orchard, and is rather bulky and coarsely
built for so trim a bird, being composed outwardly of small

118 THE CEDAR BIRD.

sticks and coarse grasses; inwardly, of sprigs of larch, fine,
dried grasses, or horse-hair, quite a little wool, or vegetable
down, being occasionally used, or even a large quantity of
fine rootlets. The eggs, 4 or 5, some .82 x -62, are light-
green, or dingy white, specked and spotted with dark
purple and black.

I once found a young one, full-grown, held to the nest by
a horse-hair, which had grown into the foot. It had the
waxen tips on its wings, showing that this peculiarity is not
wholly a matter of age.

CHAPTER VIII.
ALONG THE CREEK.
"'^ '^ "ou know that the Wild Geese are here ?" inquired a

U fr

friend of mine at Oak Orchard Creek, on the even-
ing of the 16th of March. "I fired into a large flock in the
wheat-field to-day and killed two."

"Indeed! I am aware that they are quite destructive to
the wheat-fields for some four or five weeks in early spring,
all along the south of Lake Ontario," I replied.

The Canada, or Common Wild Goose {Branta canadensis),
is the one referred to; and the two specimens, male and
female, are now mounted and before me in my study. The
male is some 38 inches, and the female some 34 inches in
length, thus appearing considerably larger than the com-
mon domestic Goose. The general color is a rich, dark-
gray, the plumage edged with lighter; bill, head, neck,
lower back, tips of wings, tail, and feet, black; patch across
the throat and up the sides of the head, and sometimes the
upper breast, grayish- white; vent and coverts at the root of
the tail, pure white.

There is not a more characteristic bird in all North
America. Moving northward in large, noisy flocks in
spring, and southward in a similar manner in autumn, it
is the sure herald of the departure of the Ice King, as well
as of his return. Who does not know of the Wild Goose ? —
that it is the most sensitive of all our animated nature to

120 THE CANADA GOOSE.

the great changes of temperature about to take place; that
it is surely an evil omen, in the dubious days of spring, to
see it retracing its course southward. The beautiful mili-
tary order of the flight of these birds — how, under the
direction of some accepted leader, they move now in form
of a straight line, now in the manner of an angle of varia-
ble degrees, every now and then some of them changing
positions, that the stronger and fresher may take its turn
in clearing the air, while the weaker and more weary take
the advantage of the wake — must be familiar to all who
have at all observed these grand movements. The confused
''hanking," "clanging" notes, too, which seem almost to
keep time with the beat of wings, must be equally familiar.

In Western New York, at present, the Canada Goose is
simply a migrant, except as it " occasionally nests at large
in the United States" (Coues), where in former times its
nidification was common. (Audubon.) These birds come in
flocks from the south into our lake counties of Western New
York soon after the middle of March, and remain with us
some 4-6 weeks. During this time they may be seen almost
constantly riding on the water near the shores of Lake Ontario.
At day-break, and again in the afternoon, they fly inland to
feed in wheat-fields on the tender, succulent blades, or in the
richer meadows. On leaving the lake they are silent, but fill
the air with their clangor on returning. By the utmost
vigilance a few are shot; but they generally alight on some
eminence where there is a good outlook in every direction,
and some wary gander is constantly on the alert.

The Canada Goose breeds more or less commonly in Lab-
rador and to the northward. Mr. James Fortiscue says
of their breeding about York Factory, Hudson's Bay:
^' Hatch everywhere, up in woods and swamps; nests made
of sticks and hay, lined with feathers."

THE CANADA GOOSE.

121

In the extreme Northwestern States it is said to breed in
trees. It is now known to breed abundantly in the North--
west Territory, especially along the Assinniboin River with
its many tributaries. It usually makes its nest on the
ground, near some stream or sheet of water, often on
secluded islands in larger rivers. One nest found by
Audubon " was placed on the stump of a large tree stand-
ing in the center of a small pond, about twenty feet high,
and contained five eggs." The same author says: "The
greatest number of eggs which I have found in the nest of
this species was nine, which I think is more by three than
these birds usually lay in a wild state." Again: "The
eggs measure, on an average, 3.50 X 2.50, are thick-
shelled, rather smooth, and of a very dull yellowish-
green color. The period of incubation is twenty-eight
days. They never have more than one brood in a season,
unless their eggs are removed or broken at an early period.
The young follow their parents to the water a day or two
after they have issued from the ^^%^ but generally return to
land to repose in the sunshine in the evening, and pass
the night there under their mother, who employs all
imaginable care to insure their comfort and safety, as does
her mate, who never leaves her during incubation for a
longer time than is necessary for procuring food, and takes
her place at intervals. Both remain with their brood until
the following spring. It is during the breeding season that
the gander displays his courage and strength to the greatest
advantage. I knew one that appeared larger than usual,
and of which all the lower parts were of a rich cream-color.
It returned three years in succession to a large pond a few
miles from the mouth of Green River, in Kentucky, and
whenever I visited the nest it seemed to look upon me
with utter contempt. It would stand in a stately atti-

122 THE CANADA GOOSE.

tude until I reached within a few yards of the nest, when,
suddenly lowering its head, and shaking it as if it were
dislocated from the neck, it would open its wings and launch
into the air, flying directly at me. So daring was this fine
fellow, that in two instances he struck me a blow with one
of his wings on the right arm, which, for an instant, I
thought was broken. I observed that immediately after
such an effort to defend his nest and mate, he would run
swiftly towards them, pass his head and neck several times
over and around the female, and again assume his attitude
of defiance."

The same author says: " It is extremely amusing to wit-
ness the courtship of the Canada Goose in all its stages;
and let me assure you, reader, that although a gander does
not strut before his beloved with the pomposity of a
Turkey, or the grace of a Dove, his ways are quite as
agreeable to the female of his choice. I can imagine before
me one who has just accomplished the defeat of another
male after a struggle of half an hour or more. He advances
gallantly towards the object of his attention, his head
scarcely raised an inch from the ground, his bill open to its
full stretch, his fleshy tongue elevated, his eyes darting fiery
glances, and as he moves he hisses loudly, while the emotion
which he experiences causes his quills to shake, and his
feathers to rustle. Now he is close to her who, in his eyes,
is all loveliness, his neck bending gracefully in all directions,
passes all around her, and occasionally touches her body;
and as she congratulates him on his victory, and acknowl-
edges his affection, they move their necks in a hundred
curious ways. At this moment fierce jealousy urges the
defeated gander to renew his efforts to obtain his love; he
advances apace, his eye glowing with the fire of rage; he
shakes his broad wings, ruffles up his whole plumage, and

THE CANADA GOOSE.

123

as he rushes on the foe, hisses with the intensity of anger.
The whole flock seems to stand amazed, and opening up a
space, the birds gather round to view the combat. The
bold bird, who has been caressing his mate, scarcely deigns
to take notice of his foe, but seems to send a scornful glance
towards him, He of the mortified feelings, however, raises
his body, half opens his sinewy wings, and with a powerful
blow, sends forth his defiance. The affront cannot be borne
in the presence of so large a company, nor indeed is there
much disposition to bear it in any circumstances; the blow
is returned with vigor, the aggressor reels for a moment,
but he soon recovers, and now the combat rages. Were the
weapons more deadly, feats of chivalry would now be per-
formed; as it is, thrust and blow succeed each other like the
strokes of hammers driven by sturdy forgers. But now, the
mated gander has caught hold of his antagonist's head with
his bill; no bull-dog could cling faster to his victim; he
squeezes him with all the energy of rage, lashes him with
his powerful wings, and at length drives him away, spreads
out his pinions, runs with joy to his mate, and fills the air
with cries of exultation."

D. H. Bunn, a man well capable of telling what he sees,
reports the following incident, as occurring in Madison
County, New York, some twenty years ago: During a night
of thick fog in early spring, a flock of geese passing over,
twenty-five of them struck against a large factory. Lodging
near by, he heard the blow, roused his companions, and
they w^ent out with lanterns. In a sort of alder-swamp, on
that side of the building which the birds had encountered,
they found the stunned and disconcerted creatures hanging
entangled in the alders, or splashing about the water; and
after being well pinched and bitten, and soundly thumped by
their powerful wings, the party succeeded in capturing them.

124 THE MALLARD.

The Canada Goose spends the winter in large flocks, in
the middle and more southern portions of our continent.
A variety of this same species, called Hutchin's Goose, is
sparingly found to the eastward, and is very abundant in the
northwest. Mr. Fortiscue thinks there are not less than
four closely-allied species of this kind of goose at Hudson's
Bay.

THE MALLARD.

March 17th, on a bright sunny morning after a light fall of
snow, I wandered along Oak Orchard Creek — a purling
stream some three or four rods in width — and found the
Mallard (Anas boschas\ and the Dusky or Black Duck (Anas
obscura)^ in considerable numbers. The former — a bird of
the stream and lake rather than of the sea — is found very
sparingly in New England and immediately to the north-
ward, but plentifully from New York southward, especially
in Florida, in winter; and it is abundant in the far north-
west in summer. As it moves smoothly and gracefully
along the quiet stream, or rises in flight, or more especially
as it almost hovers overhead in the presence of danger, it is
a truly beautiful object. The rich glossy-green of the neck
of the male, his yellow bill and legs, the rich vinous-brown
of his breast, and the gray of his under parts, the pure white
tail of gracefully-pointed feathers, ornamented by the
recurved upper tail coverts of glossy-green or purple, are
simply resplendent in the bright morning sun, so intensified
by the reflection from the pure sparkling sheet of snow.
As he is brought down, so that one can examine the deep
black of the lower back, the delicately-penciled gray of his
shoulders, scapulars and tertiaries, all set off by his dark
wing with its beauty spot of green or violet margined with
black and white, one concludes that his brilliancy is scarcely
surpassed by anything on our waters. He seems by con-

THE MALLARD. 125

trast to be more complete, too, when by the side of his
female of plainer beauty — her plumage being rich brown
margined with lighter, chin and throat whitish, beauty spot
nearly as in the male. "Nearly cosmopolitan, and nearly
everywhere domesticated," breeding more or less sparingly
throughout the United States, and more particularly to the
north, the Mallard mates in winter and in early spring; and
builds a nest of coarse materials in the marsh, lining it, if
far north, with down from its breast so plentifully that the
eggs, some eight to a dozen, and of a delicate or sometimes
dingy greenish-white, can be covered with the same on
leaving them.

On St. Clair Flats, where I found the Mallard breeding
quite commonly, the nest, which might be built in the
sedges over the water, but more commonly on a knoll or
against a log in the flooded marsh or among the bushes on
the highest ridges, never contained much down. If the
number of eggs were incomplete, or they were fresh-laid,
and therefore the entire nest as yet imperfect, there was no
down at all. The elegant green tint is quite peculiar to the
^^% of this Duck.

Unlike the Geese, but like other Ducks and the Mergan-
sers, as well as some other water-birds, the male now leaves
the female to care for her eggs and her young family alone,
while he, along with other heartless husbands and fathers of
the same kind, spends the remainder of the breeding season
in leisurely roaming, unless, indeed, the female lose her nest,
and then she goes in search of the male.

The female meanwhile is most signally faithful to her
charge. She will remain on the nest till almost trodden upon,
and then often alighting near by, will stretch out her neck,
spread her tail, and flap her wings on the water, in a manner
equal to the arts of the little Waders when similarly disturbed.

126 THE MALLARD.

"I have found the Mallard," says Audubon, "breeding on
large, prostrate and rotten logs, three feet above the ground,
and in the center of a canebrake, nearly a mile distant from
any water. Once I found a female leading her young
through the woods, and no doubt conducting them towards
the Ohio. When I first saw her she had already observed
me, and had squatted flat among the grass, with her brood
around her. As I moved onwards, she ruffled her feathers,
and hissed at me in the manner of a goose, while the little
ones scampered off in all directions, I had an excellent
dog, well instructed to catch young birds without injuring
them, and I ordered him to seek for them. On this the
mother took wing, and flew through the woods as if about
to fall down at every yard or so. She passed and repassed
over the dog, as if watching the success of his search; and
as one after another the ducklings were brought to me and
struggled in my bird-bag, the distressed parent came to the
ground near me, rolled and tumbled about, and so affected
me by her despair that I ordered my dog to lie down,
while, with a pleasure that can be felt only by those who
are parents themselves, I restored to her the innocent brood
and walked off. As I turned round to observe her, I really
thought I could perceive gratitude expressed in her eye;
and a happier moment I never felt while rambling in search
of knowledge through the woods."

The voice of the Mallard, and its manner of feeding by
immersing its head and neck, or by tipping perpendicularly
half out and half under the water, are so well illustrated by
the domestic Duck as to need no explanation here. Suffice
it to say, this is one of those members of the animal creation
which have ministered incalculably to the comfort and sup-
port of man.

THE DUSKY DUCK. 127

THE DUSKY DUCK.

Screened by a small hemlock on the bank of the creek, I
have a good view of a flock of some dozen Dusky, or Black
Ducks, as they fly up the stream. They are very large, and
look quite dark, except the under side of the wings, which is
white, and which gives a fine effect in flight. How great
the rapidity and momentum of that flight is we have but
little idea, till the bird, ceasing the rapid strokes of its
wings, and bending them downward like the arcs of a circle,
prepares to alight. Then that smooth body, with out-
stretched head and neck, and wings which cut the air like
sabers, like a huge arrow rushes through the air; and it
must sail some distance before the force of its momentum is
sufficiently spent to allow it to reach the earth in safety.

A few rods above me these Ducks drop gracefully down,
striking the water so easily, and parting it with such a
pretty plash, as to impress me with the beauty possible to
motion, and with the tranquil happiness of these creatures
in their undisturbed haunts. The stream being shallow,
they can easily reach their food by plunging their heads, in
which act they throw up their feet and hinder parts in a
manner quite amusing. They plunge, dart around in a
hurry-skurry manner, straighten out their necks and flap
their wings, thus seeming to sit almost on their tails on the
water; and, finally getting a glimpse of me, they rush out
of the water into the air with a splashing that brings me to
my feet; and I fire, bringing down a fine pair, which I
readily secure as they float down stream by wading in with
my long rubber-boots. About two feet long, of a dark
brown, the feathers edged with lighter, the beauty spot a
rich violet, the male and female about alike, this species
cannot easily be mistaken. It is by far the most common
Duck in this locality, being really abundant in the migra-

128 THE DUSKY DUCK.

tions, and quite a few remaining to breed in suitable places.
When passing north in spring, sometimes in single pairs,
sometimes in groups of pairs, they seem to tarry for a few
weeks, selecting certain feeding grounds — shallow pools
and ditches about the fields — to which they attend regu-
larly, unless seriously disturbed. Like the Mallards, they
are particularly Ducks of the ponds and the puddle-holes.
Here, by proper caution in the use of some screen, they
may be easily shot, especially about day-break. These
Ducks, as also the Mallards, are occasionally seen in enor-
mous flocks in early spring on submerged grain-fields of
the previous year, in the vicinity of Tonawanda Swamp, a
large territory extending along the southern border of this
county (Orleans), and many miles beyond.

On the 7th of last April (1881), the Ducks flew in great num-
bers in these flooded regions. I was watching them from a
retired point of view. They flew mostly in pairs, and were
nearly all of the species I am now describing. I noticed
that they all made for a certain corner of a flooded field
which was nearly surrounded by a forest. They would fly
in grand circles around it and at a considerable height for
some time, and having thus thoroughly surveyed the
ground, would sail with down-curved wings till the great
momentum of their speed was broken, and then drop down
gradually, holding the body in an oblique position, and
flapping the wings forward just as a bird does in hovering,
thus alighting easily and gracefully. Being curious to
see the place of rendezvous, I crept stealthily around to
one side of it, but before I could get within gunshot the
Ducks rose e7i masse. There must have been many hun-
dreds, and the noise of their wings was like the roll of
thunder. I hid behind the fence, thinking they might
return; but these Ducks are very shy, and gave me no

777^ DUSKY DUCK. 129

opportunity for a shot that evening. I watched for them
the next morning before daylight, but it had frozen hard,
and they had all disappeared. Where had they gone ? I
went to Lake Ontario the same day, but could not find them.

Being on the ground again a week later, and being curi-
ous to know where the Ducks spent the night, I was advised
to push my boat into a flooded region of a thick second
growth of varied trees and bushes of the lowlands, about
sundown, and watch their movements. As the rosy tints of
sunset were fading out of the sky, the Ducks, nearly all of
the kind now under review, began to circle over the spot;
and every now and then a pair would drop down after the
manner of alighting above described, and with a sharp
flutter and rustle of the wings, reach the water with a
heavy splash. They continued to come until dark, large
numbers thus spending the night floating on these quiet
waters in the security of the trees and the bushes.

Before day the next morning I was at the favorite ren-
dezvous where I had seen so many Ducks the week before.
As the cold sky of the night began to assume the soft
golden hues of the coming morning — a change which takes
place quite suddenly — the Ducks began to arrive. This
time there was none of that cautious reconnoitering of the
place, which is common to these birds at other times of
day. I could hear them squaking, without any reserve
whatever, some time before they reached the spot, and as
they arrived, they immediately dropped down in their flut-
tering, rustling manner, the sound of which, coming so
near my screen by a tree in the open field, had a very
exciting effect upon me in this deep light of the morn-
ing. To watch their sprightly and happy movements in
this state of perfect freedom was well worth all the incon-
venience of rising early, walking far and shivering in the
9

130 THE DUSKY DUCK.

cold. As the morning light became clear, I could see a pair
of Mallards in the crowd; the rest were all Dusky Ducks.
None, however, were near enough for a shot; and as the
light intensified, and my screen was noted as a new addition
to the landscape, on a slight squaking signal by one es-
pecially on the alert, they all left with a rush.

On the 22d of last September I was at Lake Ontario.
The Dusky Ducks were there in immense numbers. Through
the oflass I could see a flock of several hundreds a few miles
out from the shore. They sat on the water, as the hunters
say, in great windrows. The lake was smooth, but there
was a gentle, undulating motion of the water; and the
whole flock, with here and there a sentinel on the alert,
were resting with their bills under their scapulars, as if
asleep. The glass was powerful, bringing the birds imme-
diately before me; and the sight was as serenely happy as
one could wish to see in the varied and delightful domain
of nature. Presently one of the crowd yawned and
stretched itself upright, and flapped its wings joyously on
the water, and all followed the example, making a great
fluttering cloud of darkness on the gleaming surface. Now
they began to shoot about among each other in a most
hurried manner, as regularly, however, as men and women
would cut figures in a dance, and thus making one of the
most spirited and gleeful impressions. Then they w^ould
all quiet down again, and ride gracefully on the gently
moving waters, their heads drawm closely on their breasts,
as if in the most complete repose.

Like the Mallard, the Dusky Duck feeds on small mol-
lusks, roots, and grain, and will not disdain a lizard or a
mouse; and, like the Mallard, it is particularly a fresh- water
Duck, though it is not infrequently found about the borders
of the ocean.

THE DUSKY DUCK. 131

Never shall I forget my childish glee on finding a flock
of these Ducks just hatched, following the mother in the
woods near a wild meadow. They were a dark olive, almost
black on the head and back. The old Duck seemed quite
tame, and the little ones did not try very hard to escape.
Filling my hat with them, I hurried home, but was soon
obliged to hurry back, as .my mother did not approve of my
enterprise,

A few months ago (1883), while visiting the old paternal
farm, I was again diverted by a flock of these same young
Ducks. The female rose from a mud-hole in the wild
meadow with a great splutter; and, standing still, I began
to look about me for the young. For some time I could
see nothing of them, they were so nearly the color of the
mud and the drabbled grass. By and by my eye caught one
which must have been fully ten days old, sitting perfectly
motionless in the water, which filled a cow's track in the
mud. Looking a little to one side I saw two more snuggled
together in a like dish of water, then another and another,
and still another — all sitting so motionless that I do not
think they even winked. Thinking that I had looked at
them long enough I stepped forward, when, two more start-
ing up, they all hurried away helter-skelter into the bushes.
The Dusky Duck ranges through Eastern North America
to Labrador, and, breeding more or less throughout, but
more especially to the north, is strictly an American species.
The nest, built on the ground, generally near the water,
sometimes in a tussock of grass, sometimes sunk into the
moss, or even placed on a moss-covered rock or on the top
of a decayed log, is composed of dried grasses and various
vegetable substances, the edge being well surrounded with
down and feathers if incubation be well advanced, and so
the nest complete, thus giving it a peculiar, dark appearance.

132 THE SONG SPARROW.

The eggs, some eight in number, are about 2.38 x 1.37, very
nearly the size and shape of a common hen's &%%^ the
surface being of an opaque smoothness, and of a uniform
brownish tint, sometimes, indeed, of an elegant greenish, or
even reddish shade, the fresh ^'g'g seeming fairly translucent.
Generally, however, the eggs, like those of the Ducks in
general, are much soiled and disfigured from the bird's
entering the nest directly from the riled water and the mud.

THE SONG SPARROW.

The sun is now well up, and the thin sheet of snow is
melting rapidly. There is such a mingling of spring
warmth and winter sunshine as makes the day particularly
bright and suggestive. The reflection of every ray of the
clearest sun by the clean sheet of new snow so intensifies
the light that it seems as if a diffused lightning had become
fixed — as if the very atmosphere were transfigured. Every
breath takes in a reeking moisture, the air vibrates on the
hills as in summer heat, and the rippling and purling of the
stream is hurried and full. The earth wnll come out of this
snow as from a warm bath, everything freshened and
quickened as by a summer rain. All along the flats about
the creek, from the clumps of bushes, from the thickets,
and from the edges of the forests, come the loud and ring-
ing notes of the Song Sparrow {Melospiza melodia). Except
the creaking melody of the Horned Lark, heard fully a
month earlier, or possibly the simultaneous warbling note
of the Bluebird, this is our first noticeable bird-song of the
year. On the most disagreeable days of late February or
early March, when the air has that peculiar chill caused
by the slow melting of snow and ice, or a rain is falling
barely above the freezing point, the clear, strong vibrations
of this melody are as cheerful as in the most genial days of

THE SONG SPARROW. I33

spring. They sound like a sudden outburst of joy in the
midst of the universal bleakness of a winter's day — like
something out of its time — a melodious prophecy of the
joys of spring so near these last days of winter.

We may sometimes find the Song Sparrow in a sheltered
place here, even in winter, and hear him lisp a faint warble
from near the ground, but his full song is reserved till this
approach of spring. The clear strokes, twitters, and trills of
this song are especially musical and inspiriting on this bright,
still morning. They have the whole vibrating capacity of
the atmosphere to themselves, without even the rustling of
a leaf or the humming of an insect to counteract them.
Commencing with several long and peculiarly resonant
notes the bird continues in a twittering warble, and ends
with several notes longer and more resonant than the first,
the whole being in a tone so loud and penetrating that one
cannot but marvel at the capacity of those tiny lungs, scarcely
larger than a small bean. But the vocal apparatus of
birds, and of song-birds in particular, is very remarkable.
The larynx, highly complicated in structure, is at the lower
end of the trachea, or windpipe, being also connected with
the upper part or fork of the bronchial tubes; and the
muscles connected with it, only one or two pairs in ordinary
birds, in song-birds, are no less than five pairs. These mus-
cles may change the relative positions of the cartilaginous
rings or half-rings connected with the vocal organ; or they
may lengthen or shorten the trachea, thus giving the effect
of tubes of different lengths in a pipe-organ, or they may
modify the tension of the trilling membrane and other
membranes of the vocal organ itself. Also the arytenoid
cartilages at the upper end of the trachea may open or par-
tially close the air passage, and so modify the sound some-
thing after the manner of the knee-swell of a common

134 THE SONG SPARROW.

parlor-organ. All these vocal contrivances are greatly
aided again by the air-cavities and passages pervading the
interior of the body, the muscles and the bones. The
delightful qualities of tone, and the variations of melody
which are thus made possible to the sylvan songster, must
fall on the ear of a genuine lover of music to be fully
appreciated. Truly nature has concentrated the energy of
the song-bird in the vocal powers as well as that of birds in
general in the wing. Song, that high endowment of a portion
only of the human race, is the peculiar and fascinating gift of
certain birds, thus placing them not only above all others
of their kind, but above all the rest of animated nature.

How often throughout the season have I felt the cheering
influence of the melody of a Song Sparrow as it sang regu-
larly in the apple-trees near my study-window! Many a
performance by the human voice have I heard, far less sig-
nificant and entertaining than this spirited pastoral. The
song of this species varies greatly in different individuals,
and I have sometimes thought that it varied greatly in
different and distant localities. On going into the higher
regions of our Great Lakes, for instance, I have suspected
the melody of the Song Sparrow to be that of some other
species, until I had thoroughly assured myself. Ordinarily,
the song has a peculiar, vibrating tone, making one think of
a tremulous reed or chord; but often the more prolonged
notes are decidedly tintinnabular}^, as if the bird carried a
tiny bell in its throat, and struck off its tones in the most
delicate and pleasing manner. The order, again, of the
long notes and the short ones in the melody may be end-
lessly varied. Well, indeed, has this interesting species
been called the Song Sparrow.

In autumn, even, especially in the balmy days of Indian
Summer, one may hear its lay — not so loud and penetrat-

THE SONG SPARROW. 135

ing as in spring, indeed, but in a subdued and tender modu-
lation, peculiar to the time of year. One of our commonest
birds, found anywhere from the door-yard to the forest,
rather partial, however, to thickets, the Song Sparrow is
the useful ally of man against the insect-tribes, and a
happy minstrel to cheer him in his toils.

Already in April this bird builds its first nest, a second
following as soon as possible, and perhaps a third. Thus
the breeding season continues to the end of summer. I
have seen the eggs fresh the last days of August, and the
young in the nest in September. The nest is usually on the
ground, and well sheltered by some projecting object — a
bush, a tussock of grass, a root, or a hummock of earth;
but it may be in a bush, or in a hedge, or even in a broken
dish. In the latter part of the season the nests are much more
frequently up from the ground — in a hedge or in a bush —
than in the early spring, perhaps because the birds thus
seek to escape the disturbances of cultivation — haying,
harvesting, and the grazing herds of the pasture. The
nest is composed for the most part of dried grasses, and is
often lined with horse-hair. The eggs, from .77 X. 55-
.85 X .60, vary greatly in color and in marking. The ground-
color is a greenish, or bluish, or grayish-white. The mark-
ing, generally very thick and heavy, is of some shade of
brown, traced with lilac. There is sometimes a single ^^^
in a set, of a delicate green, and almost spotless. I know
of no eggs which vary so greatly in color.

I do not so frequently find the Cow Blackbird's eggs in
this nest as in that of other small birds in general.
The Song Sparrow is quite excitable when its nest is dis-
turbed, and emits a peculiar chimps chimp, unlike the alarm
note of any other bird, yet it has sometimes the chip peculiar
to other Sparrows.

136 THE PURPLE FINCH.

This species, composed of some half-dozen varieties,
covers North America. Our eastern variety {Melospiza
7nelodia), wintering from Southern New England and the
Middle States southward, and extending north to the lati-
tude of Nova Scotia, is some six inches or more in length,
and has the marking and color common to all our Spar-
rows. It is distinguishable to me, however, by its general
reddish tinge of brown, especially by its long crown tail,
by the heavy dark spots on its dull white breast, and more
especially by the heavy dark streaks from the base of its
bill down its cheeks and neck.

Belonging to the same genus with the Song and Swamp
Sparrows, is Lincoln's Sparrow (Melospiza lincolnii). Some
5.50 long, it has the colors and markings of the Sparrows in
general above; throat and belly white, with a broad, brownish-
yellow band across the breast, the throat, breast and sides
being specked and spotted with brown and black. In habit,
nidification, etc., this bird is very similar to the Song Sparrow.
It is found in the migrations throughout North America, being
rare to the eastward, but abundant in the west and north-
west. Audubon found it breeding in Labrador, and its
nests are found in great abundance about Great Slave Lake
and Yukon River. Mr. Bruce saw it in a thicket by Lake
Ontario, on the 17th of May (1880), in company with the
White-crowned and White-throated Sparrows.

THE PURPLE FINXH.

As I return to the village about noon I am greeted by the
Purple Finch {Carpodacus pu}pureus\ which has already
been here in full song for a week. The size and general
shape of one of the larger Sparrows, its head is a dark
crimson; rump, breast and under parts of the same, but
much lighter, the latter becoming white underneath;

THE PURPLE FINCH. 137

feathers of the back and the wing coverts, deep dusky, edged
with crimson; wing and tail-feathers, dusky-black, edged
with light-brown. The female, strongly resembled by the
male for the first two years or more, is nearly the color of
a Song Sparrow. From early spring till late summer this
is one of our most delightful songsters. Lifting itself up
to full length with elevated crest, its voluble rich tones —
strongly resembling those of the Warbling Vireo, only
more rapid and spirited — fairly gurgle in its throat to the
very end of the lengthy strain. In the sunny days of the
mating season it has quite a variety of short, spirited notes,
such as pick-wee., wee-ree^ wee-ree-ee. Then, too, it launches
into the air, and with crown-feathers erect, tail partially
thrown up, and a vibrating of wings rather than real flight,
gives its finest melody.

With much demonstration does the male win his plain
mate. Never shall I forget how I once saw him perform on
a fence-rail between me and the setting sun. Straightening
up to full length in front of his spouse, his wings vibrating
almost like those of a Humming-bird, his crimson crest all
aflame in the slanting rays of rosy light, he poured forth
his sweetest warble.

The following note from Mr. Eugene Ringueberg, of
Lockport, is in place here: ''While out in a grove of ever-
greens near the house this morning (April 30th), I saw two
male Purple Finches chasing a female in and out among
the trees. She flew around for three or four minutes, only
alighting once in a while to rest, closely pursued by the
males, singing as hard as they could nearly all the time.
At length, however, she lit on the branch of a beech-tree,
and then one of her suitors perched on a branch within a
foot of her on one side, and the other at about the same
distance on the other side. Immediately a contest of song

138 THE PURPLE FINCH.

commenced. Each male faced the female with neck out-
stretched and crest raised to its fullest dimensions, and
leaned forward far enough to show conspicuously its bright
rump, and to aid in this display, spread both wings and
tail to the widest extent; and moving, or more properly
dancing, up and down, poured forth such a volume of song
as I did not think them capable of producing. They kept
up this brilliant display of both song and plumage for over
a minute, without one second's cessation, continually mov-
ing the head and body from side to side, and giving a
tremulous, vibratory movement to the wings. Suddenly
they stopped, and after a few seconds of restless chirping,
one male flew away, and in a short time the other followed,
and then the female flew after the latter."

From the middle of May onward into June you may find
the nest of the Purple Finch almost invariably in the thick
part of a small evergreen, and near the trunk, most com-
monly in the front yard, or in an evergreen hedge set for a
wind-brake; for though rather shy on the whole, this species
seeks the society of man. The nest is framed with small
twigs, fine rootlets and some dried grass, ornamented, per-
haps, with a few dried leaves, bunches of moss, or bits of
vegetable down; it is lined with the finest of dried grasses
and rootlets, or more commonly with hair and fine vege-
table fibres. The eggs, generally four, some .75 x -55, are
a delicate light-green, finely specked with black, or more
coarsely spotted with brown. The Purple Finch breeds here
quite commonly. Wintering sparingly in Massachu-
setts and the more southern parts of New York, but abund-
antly in the Southern States, it comes to us in March,
reaching Labrador in the north and the Pacific in the west,
and goes southward late in the migratory season. Stearns,
therefore, very properly assigns it to the ^'Canadian and

THE PURPLE FINCH. I39

AUeghanian Fauna, the latter being in fact its center of
abundance in the breeding season, at which time the bird
is probably nowhere more numerous than in Massachusetts."
In no place have I ever found it so abundant 'as in Nova
Scotia.

Cassin's Purple Finch and the Crimson-fronted are
closely-allied western varieties, belonging to the Avi-fauna
of the Rocky Mountains.

The Purple Finch has the extreme robustness or thick-
ness of bill belonging to its tribe. It is, however, not
merely a seed-eating bird, but has justly awakened no
small prejudice in the gardener, on account of its partiality
for the tender filaments and fat anthers of fruit-blossoms.
But even if fruit-blossoms were not more numerous than is
necessary, this bird's bright plumage and wonderful song
might well atone for the little mischief it may do.

CHAPTER IX.

EARLY APRIL AND THE PHCEBE.

IN no field of thought does the law of the association of
ideas work more potently than in the domain of nature.
Each season has its voices, its temperatures, and its moods
of earth and sky. Along with the burning days of harvest
we associate the drowsy hum of the Cicada; with the more
temperate days, the fading fields and the cool evenings of
late summer — the shrilling of crickets, locusts and grass-
hoppers; with the driving snows of winter, clouds of Snow
Buntings; with the wooing, sunny days of late March and
early April, the homely but significant voice of the Phoebe
{Sayoi'nis fuscus), one of our welcome birds of early spring.
While 3^et the ground is crisp from the frosts of the previ-
ous night, and the lingering snow-drifts about the fence-
corners give back the unclouded rays of the morning sun in
countless scintillations, as the spirited note of the Robin,
the amorous warble of the Bluebird, the plaintive melody
of the Meadow Lark, and the ringing notes of the Song Spar-
row mingle with the sound of the axe of the woodman on
the hill, this newly arrived bird mounts the fence, the corn-
bin, or the ridge of the barn, and with frequent jerks of the
tail emits, at short intervals, his rather harsh, but by no
means unpleasing, pe-wee. This is Phoebe's very best song.
For more ordinary purposes, however, a chip or a whit may
suffice. After a few weeks, the cheerful note which

THE PHCEBE. 141

announced her arrival ceases, scarcely to be heard again
during her stay. Mr. Burroughs says of this note: "At
agreeable intervals in her lay, she describes a circle or an
ellipse in the air, ostensibly prospecting for insects, but
really, I suspect, as an artistic flourish, thrown in to make
up in some way for the deficiency of her musical perform-
ance." All pretty fancies aside, Phoebe is, without doubt, a
Flycatcher in earnest. Mark her as she describes her curve
from the fence-stake, the apple-tree, or the willow which
overhangs the brook, or hovers amidst a cloud of gnats or
midges, and be assured that the snapping of the bill is no
mere pretense. With head large, and legs weak, with
colors exceedingly plain, and a flight altogether ordinary,
this bird appeals as little to the eye as to the ear. In short,
Phoebe is in every point of view a homely bird; and yet, of
all the feathered tribes, none has a larger or tenderer place
in our sympathies. What makes her so beloved ? Just
that which endears certain plain and unpretending people
to our hearts; or, that supports the old proverb, "handsome
is that handsome does;" or, in other w^ords, an affectionate
kindliness and confidence, accompanied by a useful life,
greatly transcends any mere external accident of personal
beauty or accomplishment. The Phoebe has a better repu-
tation than either Wren or Robin, approaches us with even
more confidence than the Bluebird, can vie with the Swal-
lows in her destruction of noxious insects, in the self-sacri-
fice of her domestic cares is outdone by none, and is the
sure herald of the bright and happy days of spring. On
the other hand, no pilfering or cruel habits or faults of any
kind detract from her many virtues. In moral suggestive-
ness, the history of such a life is more potent than a
fable, and welcome as the beauty and fragrance of the
flowers. Then cordially greet this summer resident, more

142 THE PHCEBE.

disposed to self-domestication than any other bird of our
country.

As an architect, Phoebe is by no means uniform
in her method. Though often constructing a mere
mud-hut, strengthened by any fibrous or strawy mate-
rial, placed on a projection under the piazza, on
a beam in the sheds, or on the under structure of
a bridge, she may build it almost wholly of shreds of bark,
of fine rootlets, lichens, and grasses, or of mosses, using
little or no mud. Two nests now before me are both curi-
ous and beautiful. The one found under a bridge is
double, every part being new. It is built of lichens, moss,
dried grass, and very fine rootlets, and lined with white
silken fibres and horse-hair, the bulk containing a few
pellets of mud as a cement. The apartment of this double
nest, which was less finished and contained no eggs, was
evidently built first, as the pellets of mud used in cement-
ing the outside of the other which was closely joined to it,
extend over its edge and into the nearer side of the interior.
The more highly finished nest contained five fresh eggs, of
the usual size, some .75 x -50 inch, and pure w^hite, and
underneath these was a Cow Blackbird's ^%%, built out after
the manner of some of the smaller birds.

What could have been the occasion of this double nest?
As the unoccupied nest was built first, and was a little
sidling, I infer that the bird had time to build in addition a
perfectly upright one, which was more satisfactory, and
therefore more highly finished. (These twin nests are a
fine brown without and a delicate gray within.) Mr. Minot
mentions a pair, which, being late in building, "proceeded
to construct, side by side in a shed, two nests, which were
finished at the same time. While the male fed the young
of the first brood in one nest, the female laid the eggs of a

THE PHCEBE. I43

second brood in the other." Possibly the double nest in my
possession, which, by the way, was also rather late, had it
remained undisturbed, might have disclosed the same
purpose. In this, as in many other cases of bird archi-
tecture, it would seem that the bird had exercised some-
thing of reason, in addition to the ordinary impulses of
instinct.

The other nest in my possession was found in the cellar
of an unoccupied house, and is composed almost entirely
of beautiful green mosses, without any perceptible use of
mud, and is also lined with white silken fibres and horse-
hair — a most beautiful object, especially as ornamented
with its complement of clear white eggs! Such nests are
sometimes built on cliffs of rock, according to the original
habits of the bird, and thus appear as if they ''grew"
there — a beautiful product of nature. This is a bird of
the United States, rare in Northern New England and so
belonging to the Alleghanian Fauna^ wintering in the
Southern States, and raising sometimes as many as three
broods in a season and in the same nest, which is ready for
the first occupation some time in April.

It is well understood that this species returns to the same
place for nidification for years in succession. Audubon
believed that the young of the previous year returned, in
some cases, with the parents, and thus started a sort of
colony.

Phoebe is 6.50 or upward in length, dark-olive above,
still darker on the crown; under parts white or tinged
with yellow; sides, and sometimes the breast, shaded with
the dark color of the upper parts. The ring around the
eye, the outer webbing of the wing and some of the tail-
feathers are tinged with greenish-white. Bill entirely
black.

144 THE WOOD DUCK.

THE WOOD DUCK.

Along the line between Orleans and Genesee counties is
Tonawanda Swamp, extending many miles east and west,
and giving rise to a number of beautiful streams. Here
are large tracts of wood-land, forests of cedar and larch,
immense groves of maples, ashes, elms, etc., standing in the
water a great part of the year, as well as extensive tracts
of mere shrubby growth, and open marshes, moss-bogs,
etc. Here are many ponds and sluggish streams wind-
ing their way so quietly through the still forests that their
glassy surface betrays no current until a boat is launched
upon them. Being quartered w^ith a hospitable family in
the vicinity, I am spending the first days of April in these
interesting haunts. Having paddled a light canoe for
several miles along the meandering water-course, I build
me a booth against the trunk of a large elm standing on a
point where several channels meet. Seating myself, gun in
hand, I have a commanding view along the channels for
some distance. Presently a pair of Wood Ducks {Aix
spo?isd) appear. Evidently they are about to alight, but will
first reconnoiter the place. They cross the streams several
times, making short circuits through the woods. How
noiselessly they glide through the tree-tops, the male lead-
ing, and the female following closely after. Satisfied as to
the quiet of the spot, they drop gracefully into the wide,
glassy sheet of water where the channels meet. O, the
elegant figure and brilliant colors of the male, as he displays
himself in front of the female! The stretching and curv-
ing of the neck, and the graceful elevating of the crest are
indescribable. How he cuts and darts around his mate
and most tenderly caresses her ! This is the supreme
moment of his rare elegance and beauty. He also utters a
peculiar cackling sound. Some 20 inches in length, he is

THE WOOD DUCK. I45

about half way in size between the Teal and the Mallard;
the short and well-shaped bill is finely shaded with yellow,
carmine, and green; the top of the head, and space between
the eye and bill, dark, glossy green; the long crest, dark
green and deep bronze-purple, elegantly edged and streaked
with white; cheeks and sides of the neck, deep purplish-
brown, almost black; arches above the eyes, throat and
fore-neck, with points extending across the cheeks and sides
of the neck, pure white; breast light purplish-brown, with
triangular white spots, and shading into bronze-green on
the upper back; wing blue, black, and violet, edged with
white; feathers at the shoulder of the wing white, edged
with black; tail greenish-black, with rich purplish-brown
on each side of the base; femoral and side-feathers, gray-
ish-yellow, delicately penciled with black, and tipped with
white and black bands; under parts, white. He is decidedly
the most beautiful bird of our waters.

The female is a little smaller than the male, has the crest
much smaller, and is altogether plainer in color; the upper
parts being generally grayish or brownish, tinged and glossed
with green and purple; space around the eyes, throat, and
under parts, w^hite; breast similar to that of the male in
marking, but much plainer in color.

Having performed their amorous caresses, the happy pair
spring out of the water on wing and alight in the top of a
tall tree, perching as readily as any land-bird, and thus
differing widely from most others of their kind. Here
they are still beautiful, but not so charming as on the
water.

The Wood Duck breeds here, as it does in similar retreats

throughout the Union; not on the ground, however,

after the usual manner of Ducks, but in the ends of large

hollow limbs which have been broken off, the nest being

10

146 THE WOOD DUCK.

placed sometimes six or ten feet in, and in cavities in the
bodies of trees. The nest is made of various dried vege-
table matter, and is lined with feathers and down. The eggs,
anywhere from a half-dozen to fifteen, are smooth, about
1.95 X 1.50, nearly elliptical, of a light yellowish-white, some-
times tinged with green.

When the female begins to sit the male leaves her, after
the usual manner of the Ducks, and joins other males.

When the young are about twenty-four hours old, if the
limb containing the nest be over the water, they may find
their way severally to the edge, and dropping into their
favorite element, begin life's perilous career. If the nest be
a little distant from the water, as is generally the case, the
mother may seize them by the wing or neck, and con-
vey them to it, or, landing them thus on the ground, may
lead them thither in a flock. More commonly, however,
the mother having thoroughly reconnoitered the place for
some time, and now uttering her soft cooing call at the
door-way, the little ones scramble up from the nest with the
aid of their sharp toe-nails, and huddle around the mother
a few minutes. The mother, now descending to the ground,
calls again to the young, and they drop one by one on to
the soft moss or dried leaves, their tiny bodies so enveloped
in long down, falling scarcely harder than a leaf or a
feather. Again they huddle around the mother-bird; and,
the distance of the nest from the water being sometimes as
much as sixty or seventy rods, and generally more or less
on an elevation, they need the maternal guidance to their
favorite element.

Here, on such shallow ponds and edges of creeks and
lakes as abound in tender vegetable growths, amidst many
perils, she watches over them most assiduously, aiding them
in procuring their food of aquatic insects, tender shoots of

THE PEREGRINE FALCON. 147

water plants, small mollusks, and tadpoles. When fully
grown they delight in beech-nuts, acorns, and such berries
as may be found in their locality.

These elegant birds, so delicious for the table, and
so easily domesticated, spend their winters on the
fresh waters of the more southern portion of the
Union. Indeed, they are always strictly fresh-water ducks,
and may sometimes be found in large flocks during fall and
winter. Though extending somewhat farther north, this
Duck is particularly a bird of the United States, breeding
very commonly in all suitable places, and hence is often
called the Summer Duck.

THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

Scarcely have the elegant pair of Wood Ducks disap-
peared, when there passed overhead one of the most dis-
tinguished birds in the world — the Peregrine Falcon, or
Duck Hawk [Falco communis). For a moment he seemed
to be "stooping" upon some object of prey, then, as if
disappointed, rose for a short distance in a short spiral curve
and made off. As he swept w^ith the speed of an arrow past
me, I could hear the vibrating hum of his pinions; and
when he rose, he pursued his abruptly-curved pathway with
a swift, nervous sailing, wholly unlike the slow and majestic
sweep of the Buzzards. Though not numerous anywhere,
this bird has very nearly or quite the wide w^orld as its
range. It is well known all along the Atlantic Coast, and is
more or less common along the great rivers of the interior,
in the mountainous regions of which it breeds, the nest,
like that of the Golden Eagle, being placed on ledges of
projecting rock on some lofty precipice. Professor S. S.
Haldeman was the first to note its breeding in the United
States, discovering the site of its nest in the mountain-

148 THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

cliffs along the Susquehanna, near Columbia, Pennsylvania.
Afterwards Mr. Allen gave a most satisfactory account of
its nesting in Mt. Tom, on the Connecticut, in Massachu-
setts. Very recently I obtained from the observations of
Professor Charles Linden, of Buffalo, some very interesting
notes as to its breeding on the Mississippi, about sixty miles
north of Cairo, Illinois. A vertical out-crop of Devonian
strata, some 200 feet high and about a mile from the river,
contained two nests of this species, about a quarter of a
mile apart and near its crest. The nests were on a shelv-
ing of the rocks, and the limy droppings of the birds could
be plainly seen for many feet adown cliff. The birds were
almost constantly in sight, and the place afforded an excel-
lent study of their habits. It being a little after the middle
of April (1869), the wild Ducks were still abundant in the
shallow pools of the tall forests between the cliff and the
river. The Wood Ducks were there in almost countless
numbers. Blue-winged Teal and Widgeon were common,
while a few Mallards and Shovellers still lingered. Here
the Duck Hawk, perched on a tall, leafless tree well up the
mountain side, kept watch for his quarry, many a time
swooping with the swiftness of an arrow and with the
most unerring aim at some choice individual of the crowd.
Thus he deserves to be compared to ''a feathered arrow
traversing the air with a rapidity of thought, a living and
winged instrument of death !"

Sometimes a passing Pigeon lured him, or a Wilson's
Snipe, of which there were plenty here at this time.

Generally the Duck Hawk contrives little or nothing for
a nest, laying its eggs almost on the bare rock or clay; and
thus the female sits closely, scrambling to the edge of the
precipice, and launching into the dizzy ravine beneath only
when closely crowded by the hunter. It has been related

777^ PEREGRINE FALCON. 149

on the best authority, however, that it sometimes constructs
a bulky nest of sticks and other coarse materials.

In the timber lands along the Neosho River, Kansas, Mr.
N. S. Goss found these birds breeding in trees. In the first
instance, February, 1875, "the nest," he says, "was in a
large sycamore, about fifty feet from the ground, in a
trough-like cavity formed by the breaking off of a hollow
limb near the body of the tree." He continues: " I watched
the pair closely, with the view of securing both the birds
and their eggs. March 27th I became satisfied that the birds
were sitting, and I shot the female, but was unable to get
near enough to shoot the male. The next morning I hired a
young man to climb the tree, who found three fresh eggs,
laid on the fine, soft, rotten wood in a hollow worked out of
the same to fit the body. There was no other material or
lining, except a few feathers and down mixed with the
decayed wood.

" March 17, 1876," he adds, " I found a pair nesting on the
opposite side of the river from the above-described nest, in
a cotton-wood, at least sixty feet from the ground, the birds
entering a knot-hole in the tree, apparently not over five
or six inches in diameter."

Thus we see that along the rivers in prairie lands, where
mountains are wanting, the Duck Hawk, wholly apart from
its usual habit, nests in tall trees, appropriating something
like a cavity The eggs three or four, 2.20-2.32 x 1.65-
1.71, are grayish ocher or chocolate-brown, dotted, spotted,
and blotched with reddish-brown, sometimes continuously
colored with the same either about the large or small end.

"The flight of this bird," says Audubon, " is astonishingly
rapid. It is scarcely ever seen sailing, unless after being
disappointed in its attempts to secure the prey which it has
been pursuing, and even at such times it merely rises with

150 THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

a broad, spiral circuit, to attain a sufficient elevation to
enable it to reconnoiter a certain space below. It then
emits "a cry much resembling that of the Sparrow Hawk,
but greatly louder, like that of the European Kestrel, and
flies off quickly in quest of plunder. The search is often
performed with a flight resembling that of the tame Pigeon,
until perceiving an object, it redoubles its flappings, and
pursues the fugitive with a rapidity scarcely to be conceived.
Its turnings, windings and cuttings through the air are now
surprising. It follows and nears the timorous quarry at
every turn and back-cutting which the latter attempts.
Arrived within a few feet of the prey, the Falcon is seen
protruding his powerful legs and talons to their full stretch.
His wings are for a moment almost closed; the next instant
he grapples the prize, which, if too weighty to be carried off
directly, he forces obliquely toward the ground, sometimes
a hundred yards from where it was seized, to kill it and
devour it on the spot. Should this happen over a large
extent of water, the Falcon drops his prey and sets off in
quest of another. On the contrary, should it not prove too
heavy, the exulting bird carries it off to a sequestered and
secure place. He pursues the smaller Ducks, Water-hens,
and other swimming birds, and if they are not quick in
diving, seizes them, and rises with them from the water. I
have seen this Hawk come at the report of a gun and carry
off a Teal, not thirty steps distant from the sportsman who
had killed it, with a daring assurance as surprising as unex-
pected. This conduct has been observed by many individ-
uals, and is a characteristic trait of the species. The largest
Duck that I have seen this bird attack and grapple with on
the wing is the Mallard.

" The Great-footed Hawk does not, however, content
himself with water-fowl. He is generally seen following

THE PEREGRINE FALCON. 151

the flocks of Pigeons and even Blackbirds, causing great
terror in their ranks, and forcing them to' perform various
aerial evolutions to escape the grasp of his dreaded talons.
For several days I watched one of them that had taken a
particular fancy to some tame Pigeons, to secure which it
went so far as to enter their house at one of the holes, seize
a bird, and issue by another hole in an instant, causing such
terror among the rest as to render me fearful that they
would abandon the place. However, I fortunately shot the
depredator.

" They occasionally feed on dead fish that have floated to
the shores or sand-bars. I saw several of them thus occupied
while descending the Mississippi on a journey undertaken
expressly for the purpose of observing and procuring
different specimens of birds, and which lasted four months,
as I followed the windings of that great river, floating down
it only a few miles daily. During that period, I and my com-
panion counted upwards of fifty of these Hawks. * * *

" It is a clean bird in respect to feeding. No sooner is
the prey dead than the Falcon turns its belly upwards and
begins to pluck it with his bill, which he does very expertly,
holding it meantime quite fast in his talons; and as soon as
a portion is cleared of feathers, tears the flesh in large
pieces, and swallows it with great avidity. If it is a large
bird, he leaves the refuse parts, but, if small, swallows the
whole in pieces. Should he be approached by an enemy,
he rises with it and flies off into the interior of the woods,
or, if he happens to be in a meadow, to some considerable
distance, he being more wary at such times than when he
has alighted on a tree.

" These birds sometimes roost in the hollows of trees. I
saw one resorting for weeks every night to a hole in a dead
sycamore, near Louisville, in Kentucky. It generally came

152 THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

to the place a little before sunset, alighted on the dead
branches, and in a short time after flew into the hollow,
where it spent the night, and from whence I saw it issuing
at dawn. I have known them also to retire for the same
purpose to the crevices of high cliffs, on the banks of Green
River, in the same State.

" Many persons believe that this Hawk, and some others,
never drink any other fluid than the blood of their victims;
but this is an error. I have seen them alight on sand-bars,
walk to the edge of them, immerse their bills nearly up to
the eyes in water, and drink in a continued manner, as
Pigeons are known to do."

Undoubtedly no American ornithologist ever observed
the habits of the Duck Hawk as did Audubon; hence I have
preferred to quote verbatim from him, rather than to simu-
late knowledge by swallowing his statements and disgorging
the pellets.

A fine female of this species, taken in Orleans County, of
this State, in autumn, is now before me. It is about twenty
inches long and three feet in extent. Bill blackish, blue at
tip, light-green at base; cere greenish-yellow; legs yellow;
the general color of the upper parts is a rich dark-brown,
the terminal part of each feather being much the darker,
the upper part, which is mostly covered, having a grayish
or ashy tinge, especially about the neck, and nearly all the
feathers being tipped with light brown or brownish-white;
the inner web of the wing feathers is crossed with round,
oval or long spots of buff or light reddish; the tail has eight
broken cross-bars of the same color, and is tipped with
buffy white; the throat and sides of the neck are buff, the
brown check-marking from the base of the bill being very
conspicuous; the under parts and femoral feathers being
buff or buffy white, heavily marked with brown. The male.

THE CHIPPING SPARROW. 153

which is about three inches shorter, has more of the grayish
or bluish tinge in the upper parts; and the under parts are
lighter — often nearly white.

This is a typical Falcon, having the short, abruptly-curved
and pointed bill, with a sharp tooth just back of the point,
and a corresponding notch in the lower truncate mandible;
the wings are long and pointed, the second primary being
longest. This species may be recognized by its large feet,
its round nostril, with a point in the center, and the dark
cheek-marking starting from the base of the bill.

The Old World representative of this species has been
most renowned in falconry. In this princely sport, practiced
very extensively from the most ancient times till after the
use of fire-arms, and still continuing more or less in vogue,
the Peregrine Falcon has ever proved most susceptible of
training; "waiting on" the master to perfection, "ringing"
the Heron as he "takes the air," and "binding" him in the
most gallant and sportive manner. A weird sight these
Hawks must have been, as they were carried forth on the
wrist or on frames to the hunt, all hooded and trapped out
in the most fantastic manner; and most animating must
have been the sport, as the grand Falcon described his
aerial evolutions in capturing his swift-winged prey.

THE CHIPPING SPARROW.

About the 5th of April the first Chipping Sparrows {Spi-
zella socialis) appear. They do not become very common,
however, until about a week later. Of all our native Spar-
rows, this one shows the greatest confidence in man, pre-
ferring to rear its young in his immediate vicinity, picking
up the crumbs about the door of his habitation, and there-
fore very properly called the Social Sparrow. About 5.50
long, and having the common markings of the Spar-

154 THE CHIPPING SPARROW.

rows above, it is to be distinguished from most of its family
by its smaller size, and from them all by its chestnut crown,
shading into black in front, and by its clear grayish-white
breast and under parts. The sharp, chipping note, from
which it has derived its most common name, is certainly
characteristic, as is also its song, which is simply a prolonged
twitter — chip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip^ itself suggestive of the name
of the singer — frequently uttered throughout the day in
the breeding season, and not infrequently indulged in in the
night.

The anxious mother, keeping watch at the cradle of her
sick child, may hear it in the lilac outside the window; or,
for the wakeful sufferer, it may every now and then break
the monotony of the slow, dark hours, while at the first
streak of the dawn it generally strikes the key-note of the
universal matin.

In the location and structure of its nest, and, indeed, in
respect to the color of its eggs, Socialis is unlike the rest of
our Sparrows. For a nest, Mr. Burroughs says: *' It
usually contents itself with a half-dozen stalks of dry grass
and a few long hairs from a cow's tail, loosely arranged on
the branch of an apple-tree." While this is graphically
descriptive of many a nest, it is by no means exhaustive.
I have before me several quite bulky nests. One is com-
posed outwardly of a dense arrangement of fine rootlets,
and has a thick lining of "long hairs from a cow's tail" —
the same as much that passes for horse-hair in other nests —
or hairs from the tail or mane of some horse. The outside
of another is a pretty good bunch of coarse rootlets and
dried grasses loosely thrown together, containing a lining
of pigs' bristles sufficient to make a nest in itself. Another
consists entirely of horse-hair. In every case there is such
a quantity of hair used for lining as to justify the name of

THE BAY-WINGED SPARROW, 155.

Hairbird, sometimes given to this species. The nest, placed
in any shrub, bush, vine, on the piazza, or apple-tree, is
never very near the ground, and may be pretty well up.
The eggs, 4 or 5, .68 x .48, are a bright bluish-green, specked
at the large end with reddish-brown and black. There are
generally two broods in a season, the first appearing early
in June. I have in my possession almost a perfect Albino
of this species.

Habitat, "Eastern United States; breeding from Virginia
northward; wintering from the same point southward."
(Coues.) It is quite common in New Brunswick and Nova
Scotia, and also on Manitoulin Island, and on the main land
to the north.

THE BAY-WIXGED SPARROW.

Not many hours either earlier or later than the morning
of the 7th of April, we hear, in this locality, the first song of
the Bay-winged Sparrow, or Grass Finch {Po(Ecetes gramineus).
Almost at the same hour it is here in great numbers; and
throughout our latitude the fields and pastures are every-
where enlivened by its appearance and by its pleasing
song. By the white feathers on the sides of the tail, becom-
ing conspicuous as the bird alights, by the general lightness
of color, and by its habit of skulking along so as barely to
keep out of the way, this bird is readily distinguished from
all the rest of our Sparrows. On taking it into the hand,
one notes the patch of reddish, or bay, on the shoulder of
the wing, from which it receives its more common name.
The length is about six inches, and male and female are
alike. Associating the above distinguishing characters with
the general appearance of our Sparrows, the bird will be
readily made out as our commonest summer resident of the
pastures, the open fields, and the road-sides. On its first
appearance among us in spring, and by the time it leaves

156 THE BAY-WINGED SPARROW.

us in late autumn, the warm tints of its plain dress are
decidedly pleasing; but in the burning heat of midsummer,
from constant contact with grass, stubble, dust and gravel,
it appears rather shabby.

The melody of the Bay- wing, if not so sprightly and varied,
still bears quite a resemblance to that of the Song Sparrow,
and is expressive of a tender pathos, which may even give it
the preference. It is one of the few bird-songs which might
be written upon a musical staff. Beginning with a few soft
syllables on the fifth note of the musical scale, it strikes
several loud and prolonged notes on the eighth above, and
ends in a soft warble, which seems to die out for want of
breath, and may run a little down the scale. Though the song
is not brilliant, and rather suggestive of humble scenes and
thoughts, " the grass, the stones, the stubble, the furrow, the
quiet herds, and the warm twilight among the hills," it is
nevertheless a fine pastoral, full of the sweet content which
dwells in the bosom of nature. It is heard to the best advantage
when the rosy hues of sundown are tinting the road, the
rocks, and all the higher lights of the evening landscape.
Then an innumerable company of these poets *'of the
plain, unadorned pastures" — some perched on the fences,
some on weeds and thistles, but many more hid in the
grass and stubble — swell into their finest chorus, while most
other birds are gradually subsiding into silence. It has
been well said that the farmer following his team from the
field at dusk catches the Bay-wing's sweetest strain, and
that a very proper name for it would be the Vesper Spar-
row. Its nest, which is on the ground, and often without
any protection, is built outwardly of the coarse material of
the fields, and lined with fine grass, rootlets, or horse-hair.
The eggs, 4 or 5, some .80 x .60 of an inch, are mostly dull
white and quite variable in their markings, generally thickly

WHITE-BELLIED SWALLOW. I57

specked with reddish-brown and Hlac; they are often spot-
ted and blotched with darker brown and blackish, and often
scratched and scrawled with black as with a pen, after the
manner of the eggs of the Icteridce.

As the first brood may be hatched here by the middle of
May, the abundance of nests in all the fields brings them
in contact with the plow in great numbers; and as the eggs
of the second or last brood may be fresh about the 4th of
July, many nests are destroyed in the hay-field. The losses
sustained therefore by this bird in nidification are probably
greater by far than those of any other species in the locality.

Habitat, the United States from ocean to ocean, and
reported by Dr. Richardson from the Saskatchawan.
Winters abundantly in the Southern States, and breeds from
the southern Middle States northward, becoming very rare
in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.

WHITE-BELLIED SWALLOW.

About the first or second week in April the White-bellied
Swallow {Tachycineta bicolo?') makes its appearance. This
earliest arrival of its very interesting family is most likely
to be seen along streams or ponds; and while it exceeds
but a little the average size of the different kinds of Swal-
lows — for excepting the Purple or Black Martin {Frogne
purpurea)^ the Swallows differ but slightly in dimensions —
it is readily distinguished by its simple markings of glossy
greenish-black above, and pure white beneath, whence its
specific name Bicolor, or two-colored. In purity and ele-
gance of color it surpasses all the rest of its family in this
locality, and is itself surpassed on this continent only by
the exquisite beauty of the Rocky Mountains and the
Pacific Coast, known as the Violet-green Swallow {Tachy-
cineta tkalassina). Its notes are particularly soft and musical

258 WHITE-BELLIED SWALLOW.

for a bird of its kind, so that it is called by some the Sing-
ing Swallow.

The flight of the Swallow is one of the wonders of
nature. Achieving in its ordinary flight at least a mile in a
minute, the Barn Swallow "has been known to leave Hali-
fax, Nova Scotia, at sunset, for the South, and to reach the
Islands of Bermuda, 800 miles due south, by sunrise the
next morning." (Tristram.) Thus, in comparatively a few
hours, it can pass from the Arctic snows to the tropics.
Wilson estimating the flight of the Swallow at a mile in a
minute, its time spent on wing per day to be ten hours, and
its length of life at ten years, shows that it would thus pass
round the globe eighty-seve7i times.

The White-bellied Swallow is especially swift and grace-
ful m flight. Behold it "skating on the air." How it
dashes along, seemingly almost without exertion, capturing
its food or dipping its bill mto the glistening stream to
drink, or washing itself "by a sudden plunge," all of which
scarcely retards its onward movement. In a moment it is
out of sight, or else rising nearly perpendicularly, it will
suddenly shoot across the tree-tops with almost lightning
speed, performing the most wondrous aerial evolutions as
easily as if it were tossed by the winds themselves. The
whole domain of air is the Swallow's home. No path of
insect is beyond its reach, and what bird of prey can over-
take it? Here is freedom, indeed, and a life that is one
continual recreation.

The White-bellied Swallow is associated with the days of
my childhood in Nova Scotia. Many a nest did I find in
the hollow stumps of the low pastures. A few dried grasses
compose the outside, the inside being a considerable mass
of large, downy, white feathers of the tame Goose, so laid
that the tips curl inward, and almost cover the eggs when

WHITE-BELLIED SWALLOW. 159

the bird is off the nest. The pure white eggs, some four or
five, are real gems of beauty. How bravely the parent
birds would defend their nest, describing their noisy circles
in near proximity, and, with a guttural shriek, diving so
closely at the head of the intruder, as to induce a speedy
retreat. The same stump would be occupied for a series of
years, the annual additions of lining giving considerable
depth to the nest in time. In New England this bird is now
said to build in "a Martin-box," or "rarely in the hole of a
tree." In New York it nests in holes about the walls of
brick or stone buildings — as an instance, in large numbers
in holes about the stone buildings of the Johnston Harvester
Works at Brockport. Here, too, it sometimes builds in the
holes of trees, and more or less in community.

On the Mud Islands, Yarmouth County, Nova Scotia, I
saw the nests of this species on the ground under flat stones,
and in holes in the ground. They were elegantly lined
with the feathers of the Herring Gull and of the Eider
Duck, the feathers being so laid that the tips curled upward
and nearly concealed the eggs.

Though these Swallows do not generally nest in commu-
nities, they often associate in large numbers in spring and
fall. What a spirited scene I witnessed about the middle of
last April, on one of the secluded ponds of Tonawanda
Swamp. The number gyrating above the glassy surface so
filled the air that their movements without contact with
each other seemed impossible. The air became darkened,
and was made resonant by the volume of their musical
twitterings.

These Swallows leave us from the earlier half of Septem-
ber to middle of October, when they may be seen in great
numbers. Mr. Maynard, of Newtonville, Mass., says: " They
congregate upon the salt marshes during the latter part of

160 THE COW BLACKBIRD.

August and the first of September literally by millions; the
air is so completely filled with them that it is almost impos-
sible to discharge a gun without killing some,"

I have seen them in like numbers along the Niagara
River in the latter part of September. They would darken
the air in flight, and, when alighting, would blacken the
shore for a long distance.

Its habitat is temperate North America, reaching even to
Alaska, throughout which it breeds quite generally, while it
winters in the extreme Southern States, in Central America,
and in the West Indies.

Our several species of the Swallow are among the birds
which are especially regular in the times of their migrations.
Now, as in the days of the prophet Jeremiah, it knows the
time of its coming, and as truly marks the ushering in of
the joyous days of spring as when the boys of Athens sang
their familiar ditty in its honor.

The Swallows, Swifts, and Goat-suckers were formerly all
classed together as Fissirostrals, or those having a deeply-
cleft bill. The resemblance which the Swallows bear to the
two other groups is, however, merely external, an analogy
rather than an affinity.

A strict anatomy proves the Swallows alone to have the
complicated muscular system of the lower larynx belonging
to the birds of song, while the r^moXrvin^ Fissirostrals^ having
the simpler larnx of the non-singing birds, are placed among
the Flycatchers and Humming-birds.

THE cow BLACKBIRD.

One of the most beautiful and forcible lessons in nature
is the conjugal and parental affection of the birds. The
inimitable songs of the males are generally most ardently
and sweetly delivered, while the females are enduring the

THE COW BLACKBIRD. 161

tedious confinement and exhaustion of incubation; thus
charming the ear with an entertainment which might delight
the very highest intelHgences, and so beguihng the weary
hours. Behold that male Bluebird feeding the female in the
most kindly manner, or the Rose-breasted Grosbeak taking
apparently the greater part of the burden of incubation
upon himself ! How disconsolate is that House Wren
whose mate the cat has killed ! Listen to the sad moanings
of that Mourning Dove bereft of his mate ! I have some-
times pointed the newly-married couple to the birds as being
the best guide to domestic felicity.

And has the reader ever noticed the melancholy arts of a
female bird, w^hen startled from her eggs, as she hobbles
and flutters along the ground feigning broken legs and
wings ? Has he ever seen the distress of the mother Part-
ridge at the alarm of her young brood ? Giving them the
well-understood signal to hide themselves, she tumbles
about and moans, as if in the last agonies of death, and will
even allow herself to be touched by the hand in order to
decoy the intruder; and when danger seems over, listen to
her pathetic maternal call, which again brings the tender
younglings under her wings ! Neither father nor mother of
the human species could feed and protect a helpless family
with more self-sacrificing industry than is universally com-
mon to the parent birds. Audubon tells us how the heart
of a pirate was once softened while listening to the tender
cooings of the Zenaida Doves in the breeding season on
one of the Florida Keys. Dropping on his knees upon
the burning sand, he penitently besought heaven for mercy,
and, at the peril of his life, forsook his murderous crew,
and joined his formerly abandoned family.

In the case, however, of the Cow Blackbird {Molothrus
pecoris) of America, and the Cuckoo of Europe, two birds
11

162 THE COW BLACKBIRD.

belonging to altogether different families, we note a most
remarkable exception, these being wholly polygamous and
parasitic. The Cow Blackbird makes its first appearance
in Western New York about the end of the first week in
April. Some 7.00 or 7.50 long, the male is a glossy greenish-
black, with a brown head. The female, somewhat smaller,
is plain slaty-brown. In sombre groups of some half-
dozen or more — the males being at first the more numerous,
but the sexes soon becoming about equally represented —
they perch leisurely on the fence, on a solitary tree in the
field or in the edge of the woods, often penetrating the
thickest forests. The intercourse of the sexes is entirely
promiscuous, no male ever showing any continuous attach-
ment to any one female. Since the body-guard of insects
accompanying the cattle affords the Cow Bird a constant
repast, or more especially from the attractiveness of certain
intestinal worms passed in the excrements of cattle by means
of the aperient effects of green grass in spring and early sum-
mer, this species is noted for its preference of the vicinity of
these quadrupeds; even lighting on their backs; hence its
common name, Cow Blackbird, formerly Cow Bunting.

Dr. Coues says: "Cow Birds appear to be particularly
abundant in the west; more so, perhaps, than they really
are, for the numbers that in the East spread equally over
large areas are here drawn within small compass, owing to
lack of attractions abroad. Every wagon-train passing over
the prairies in summer is attended by flocks of the birds;
every camp and stock-corral, permanent or temporary, is
besieged by the busy birds eager to glean subsistence from
the wasted forage. Their familiarity under these circum-
stances is surprising. Perpetually wandering about the
feet of the draught-animals, or perching upon their backs,
they become so accustomed to man's presence that they

THE COW BLACKBIRD. 163

will hardly get out of the way. I have even known a young
bird to suffer itself to be taken in hand, and it is no uncom-
mon thing to have the birds fluttering within a few feet of
one's head. The animals appear to rather like the birds, and
suffer them to perch in a row upon their back-bones, doubt-
less finding the scratching of their feet a comfortable sensa-
tion, to say nothing of the riddance from insect parasites."

In respect to its vocal performances, this bird is curious
rather than entertaining. Ruffing up its feathers, opening
wide its mouth, and appearing to strain every muscle, it
*' seems literally to vomit up its notes," which bear a formal
resemblance, indeed, to those of the closely-related Red-
winged Blackbird, but are almost entirely destitute of their
claims to musical quality. The vocal utterances of Pecoris
do certainly " gurgle and blubber up out of him, falling on
the ear with a peculiar subtle ring, as of turning water from
a glass bottle," but, perhaps, on account of my prejudice, I
fail utterly to discover their "pleasing cadence."

While other birds are busy building their nests,
this reckless free-lover betrays no impulse whatever in
this direction, but gayly flitting about from place to place,
spends his time in mere wanton pleasure. As soon as the
nests of other birds are completed, you may notice the
females of this dusky flock of Cow Birds becoming very
uneasy. One by one they steal away in quest of some
strange nest in which to deposit their eggs. They have
been known to search the ground, the bushes, and the trees
for miles in order to accomplish their purpose. Never
driving away the rightful owner, nor taking possession by
force, they will creep stealthily into the nest in the absence
of the owner, and hastily depositing an ^%%^ hurry back to
join their company with the most obvious sense of relief,
and without the slightest further concern for their offspring.

164: THE COW BLACKBIRD.

This species has never been known to build a nest, nor to take
any interest in raising its young, which are left entirely to
the care of foster parents. Almost invariably the nest of a
bird much smaller than itself is chosen. The Sparrows, the
Warblers, the Vireos, the smaller Flycatchers — in fact, any
of the small land-birds — may become the victim of this im-
position. Occasionally birds near its own size, as the
Scarlet Tanager or the Bluebird, may be obliged to bear
the burden. The Cow Bird's ^^^ is so unusually small for
the size of the bird, only some 90 x -65 of an inch, that it
is readily accommodated in the nests of very small birds,
whereas, if dropped into that of larger ones, it may be
thrown out, I have found it w^ith a hole in the side and
lying on the ground, beneath the nest of the Yellow-breasted
Chat, thus evidently pierced by the bill of the bird, and
ousted in indignation. These eggs, of a dirty white and
specked all over with brown, are readrly distinguished from
those of any nest in which they may be placed, and are
always unwelcome to the owners, which will become very
uneasy and querulous; and the female, hunting up its mate,
will make a noisy ado over the intrusion. If the owner
has not yet laid her own eggs she may forsake the nest, or
add a story to it, thus burying the foreign ^^^ so deeply as
to suffer no inconvenience from it. Many cases of the latter
expediency have been found. Wilson found a Yellow War-
bler's nest containing two eggs thus separately built out, mak-
ing a nest of three stories. I have seen a like nest of the Red-
start. The owner of such a nest does, indeed, deserve " a
better fate than that her house should at last be despoiled by
a naturalist;" but "passing thus into history," and making
such a contribution to science, is worth a great sacrifice. I
once found a Wood Thrush sitting stupidly on a solitary &^%
of the Cow Blackbird. This would seem to be exceptional.

THE COW BLACKBIRD. ■ 165

Wilson and Audubon, as well as the earlier ornithologists
in general, were mistaken in saying that no nest contained
more than one of the Cow Blackbird's eggs. I have fre-
quently found more than one in the same nest; once not
less than four in the nest of a Scarlet Tanager, which had
only room enough left for two of her own. Mr. Trippe
once found a Black-and-white Creeper's nest with five of
the eggs of the interloper and three deposited by the owner.
Dr. Coues has well said: "We may consider this pair of
Creepers relieved, on the whole, by Mr. Trippe's visit — the
mother-bird rescued from drowning in the inundation of so
many 'well-springs,' and the father saved the necessity of
hanging himself from the nearest convenient crotch."

Perhaps requiring a shorter period of incubation, perhaps
on account of the size of the ^^^ being greater, and thus
receiving more warmth than those of the owner of the nest,
the Cow Bird's ^^^ invariably hatches first. Then the
foster parent, prompted by the generosity of parental in-
stinct, will leave her own eggs to chill, while she secures food
for the foundling. Thus the Cow Bird alone is hatched,
and the addled eggs of the owner of the nest are soon
removed. Considering the number of nests thus intruded
upon, sometimes apparently more than half of the small
birds' nests in this locality, the check thus put upon
the propagation of these various species must be very
great.

The young Cow Blackbird grows rapidly, and soon more
than fills the nest. Meanwhile the foster parents feed it
most assiduously, and continue to do so long after it has
left the nest, and when it is many times larger than the
little Sparrow or Warbler thus imposed upon. It is by no
means suggestive of pleasing reflections to see this great
over-grown foundling flapping its wings and calling loudly

166 THE MOURNING DOVE.

for these attentions when it seems sufficiently mature to take
care of itself.

The remarkable sagacity of these young birds in discov-
ering each other has been well noted by ornithologists. I
have seen them in very considerable flocks already by the
20th of June, and later in the season they gather into flocks,
which are simply immense.

Considering how many of our summer residents are
hard to find during the moulting period, it may not after all
appear so strange that the Cow Bird seems absent during a
certain part of summer. In late summer and early
autumn they are wont to assemble in large flocks, some-
times quite destructive, and, migrating late in autumn,
spend the winter in great numbers in the Southern States.
They are said to deposit their eggs from 35° to 68° north.
General habitat. North America.

Plain in form and color, without musical attractions, of a
disgusting diet, an arrant free-lover, wholly without
parental affection, a destroyer at the very threshold of the
life of many of our most interesting birds, in short, in all
respects of most distasteful and infamous habits, this grand
ornithological nuisance would seem to claim no considera-
tion whatever, except as an anomaly, being a most flat con-
tradiction of the laws of its kind, and hence an addition to
nature's great variety.

THE MOURNING DOVE.

On the 10th of April one of my parishioners called my
attention to what he called a flock of Plover in a field
where he had raised corn the year before. The flock, con-
sisting of some twenty, turned out to be Mourning Doves
{ZencEdura carolinensis). Rarely do we see so many together
at any time of year in this locality. Occasionally, how-

THE MO UR XING DOVE. 167

ever, they will appear in the newly-reaped wheat-fields in
the month of August in very large flocks. They remained
in this field for days, gleaning the stray kernels of corn, and
perhaps the seeds of the coarser w^eeds. These birds arrive
quite as early as the present date, generally in pairs, and
sometimes stray individuals remain all winter. In Northern
Ohio they spend the winter in small flocks about the barn-
yards and orchards, gleaning and feeding along with the
domestic fowl, thus becoming almost domesticated. Hav-
ing the small head, peculiar bill, slender neck, short legs,
and pointed tail of the Doves, it is a genuine member of
the Columbidce family, and a near relative of our Pigeon.
About a foot long, with fourteen tail feathers, and a naked
space around the eyes, its color is a slaty-brown above,
bluish on the top of the head and on the back of the neck, a
velvety-black spot on the auriculars; front of the neck,
breast, and under parts, a delicate, warm light-red; throat,
crissum, and ends of the outer tail feathers, white. Here
and there about the wings and back is a dark slaty or black
feather. The sides of the neck have a beautiful, metallic
purple gloss, or iridescence. Female and young, plainer
and duller, and slaty on the breast.

As in Bible lands, the cooing of the Dove is one of the
characteristic voices of our advanced spring. In thickets,
and especially in orchards, sometimes even in the orna-
mented evergreens of the front-yard, some four successive
notes, a most mournful cooing among " the saddest sounds
in nature," may be heard throughout the day, but especially
in the early morning. These notes, however, so strangely
in contrast with the universal gladness of spring, are by no
means the utterance of grief or woe, but rather of the ten-
derest emotions of love and joy. They are the conjugal
notes of the male; and such are his attentions and appar-

1G8 THE MOURNING DOVE.

ently life-long attachment to the female, that, like the Doves
in general through all historic times, he is a fit emblem of
the domestic affections. Moreover, his solemn, mournful air
renders him a fit symbol of the most pensive side of nature.

The nest of this species, found here late in May, placed in
a bush or tree, on the roots of a windfall, on a stump, or on
the ground, is generally a slight and loose construction of
dry twigs, and perhaps a few rootlets, built in what is called
the platform style, so slight that one can scarcely imagine
how the eggs can be hatched and the young ones raised on
it; and contains two beautiful white eggs, measuring about
1.12 X -85, A nest now before me, some two inches or more
in thickness, and tound in an orchard, is made of neat,
crooked twigs, more or less covered with lichens, and very
artistically laid. It is finished on the top with fine rootlets,
skeleton-leaves, and bits of wool; and is a very gem of its
kind, reminding one of some fancy log-cabin.

The young Doves are well matured before they leave the
nest, and sit side by side upon the ordinarily rude affair.
At night the old one sits crosswise on them, even when they
are quite large, the nest and birds together thus making
quite a grotesque pile.

The diet of these birds is well stated by Wilson, who says
they "are exceedingly fond of buckwheat, hemp-seed and
Indian corn; feed on the berries of the holly, the dogwood,
and poke, huckleberries, partridge-berries, and the small
acorns of the live oak and shrub oak. They devour large
quantities of gravel, and sometimes pay a visit to the kitchen-
garden for peas, for which they have a particular regard."

The Mourning Doves, or Carolina Turtle Doves, as they
are sometimes called, may often be seen dusting themselves
in the road; and, at all times, their flight is very noticeable
from the sharp whistling noise produced by each stroke of

THE WHITE-RUMPED SHRIKE. 169

the wings. They are abundant summer residents, many
also spending the winter throughout the Middle States;
becoming rare already in New England, they barely extend
into the British Provinces. Many migrate to the Southern
States, where they spend the winter in large flocks; and
many remain there during the summer. The Mourning
Doves are also common to the Pacific Coast.

The elegant White-headed Dove of the West India Islands
is a summer resident of the Florida Keys. About 13.12
long, the "general color throughout is dark slaty-blue,
becoming very dark on the tail above and black beneath."
Crown pure white; back of neck rich purplish-brown; sides
of the neck elegant iridescent green, with golden reflections
and a fine black margin to each feather. The Zenaida Dove,
with a most plaintive and pathetic note, has been found by
Audubon only, on the Florida Keys. The plain but elegant
little Ground Dove, only seven inches long, " a constant
resident throughout the Carolinas and southward, may be
so easily known by its diminutive size that it needs no
description. Its rather elaborate nest of twigs and weeds
lined with usnea, and containing one or two creamy
white eggs, some .85 X .64, may be on the ground, or in a
bush or tree. The Key West Dove appears in summer on
Key West, as implied by its name. Excepting the Ground
Dove, the above group of Doves belongs to the West Indies,
and barely reaches the localities named in summer.

THE WHITE-RUMPED SHRIKE.

About this 12th of April I observe a. quite common bird of
this locality, the White-rumped Shrike (Colhwio liidovicianus
var. excubitoroides)^ already mated. Single individuals of this
species are here in March, and their first brood may be
hatched by the latter part of April, a second appearing in

170 THE WHITE-RUMPED SHRIKE.

July. Some 8.50-9.00 long, it is about an inch shorter
than the Northern Shrike {Colliirio borealis), and precisely
the size of the Loggerhead (Colliirio liidovicianiis) of the
Gulf States, of which latter it is now regarded as a mere
variety, occupying the more western and northwestern
regions. Coues gives its habitat: "Middle Province of
North America, to the Saskatchawan; east through Kansas,
Iowa, Ohio, Illinois and Wisconsin, to New York and Canada
West, probably into New England. In the Southern States,
replaced by typical ludoviciamis. On the Pacific Coast, not
observed north of California. South through Mexico."
Frank R. Rathbun, in his list of birds of Central New York,
states that it is "a not uncommon summer resident."

Bluish-ash above, white beneath (sometimes rather gray-
ish-white), patches from the base of the bill across the eyes
and auriculars, the rounded wings and tail, black; spot in
the base of the primaries, tips of some of the secondaries,
edging of the scapulars, sides of the tail and rump, white;
bill and feet black — this bird is really beautiful, especially
in its flight, which is low and straightforward, with
rapid strokes, showing the clear white and black of the
wings and tail to fine advantage. The rapid wing motion
seems almost to describe contiguous semicircles of white
and black at the sides of the moving bird, and contrast finely
with its clear, light colors. It perches on some solitary tree in
the open field, on a fence-stake, or on the hedge; sitting
motionless as a Hawk, while it watches its vicinity for its
favorite items of prey, consisting of various small insects,
beetles, grasshoppers, mice, and small birds, which last it
may not infrequently be seen lugging by the head as it flies
from point to point, or munching at its leisure when perched.

The orchard is decidedly a favorite resort of this bird.
Here, saddled on the limb of an apple-tree, it builds its

THE WHITE-RUMPED SHRIKE. 171

strongly characterized nest of sticks, coarse weeds, rootlets,
shreds of bark, woody fibers, dried grasses, thread, wool,
and feathers, the lining consisting particularly of the last-
mentioned items. The whole structure is bulky and ragged,
the rim being so thick, loose and irregular as almost to
hide the eggs, which may be partially buried in the care-
lessly-arranged lining. The eggs, 5 or 6, about 1.00 x To
are dull white, spotted with greenish-gray or brown, and a
more neutral tint of lilac-gray. The nest may be placed in
a solitary tree of the open field, or in the thick part of the
hedge. Having taken a nest with 6 fresh eggs on the 28th
of April, by the end of the first week in May another had
been built and contained 3 eggs.

During the breeding season the male may be frequently
seen perched on the fence by the road-side. This is almost
a silent bird, the male occasionally uttering a loud peemp^
peemp^ in the mating period, and the female uttering a pro-
longed guttural squeak when startled from her nest. The
latter resembles a weaker note of the Vireos, uttered under
like circumstances.

The young Shrikes resemble their parents, except that the
colors are not so pure and bright, and they have a light-
brownish wash across the breast, in which, as also in the ashen-
gray of the upper parts, there is a fine, dark cross-penciling.

The White-rumped Shrike leaves us late in the fall.

The Shrikes are a strange family of birds. With the bill
and head of a Falcon, the mouth-bristles of a Flycatcher,
the feet and laryngeal muscles of a song-bird, the dietetic
habits of a Hawk, and, in the case of our American species,
the color of the Mockingbird, ornithologists have been
much puzzled as to their place in classification. In the
latest American works, they rank between the VireonidcE
and the Friii<^illidce..

CHAPTER X.
LATER IN APRIL.

THE DABCHICK.

ON the 15th of April, I go to Lake Ontario at the mouth
of Johnson's Creek to spend a few days in observing and
collecting. As I stealthily approach the creek near its outlet,
I see a Dab chick {Podilymbus podiceps) swimming among the
rushes. Occasionally he emits a clear whistle not unlike
the peep of the Hylas. How spry he is, darting hither and
thither, diving to reappear many rods away, and shaking his
head violently as he emerges. I cannot tell one moment
where to look for him the next. No wonder he has received
the common name — Water-witch. Now he starts up and
flies a few rods, patting the surface of the water with his
lobate feet, as if he were half flying and half running. His
head turns so quickly in every direction that I cannot decide
whether he sees me or not. only as I imply it from his sink-
ing so deeply as he swims whenever he rises after diving,
and finally from his disappearing among the sedges. This
is no doubt a breeding place of this species, as are also the
marshes about Grand Island, in Niagara River. In August
or September, when the family is well grown, it is interest-
ing to watch them at their sports in their quiet haunts.
They seem most active between da^dight and sunrise. Then,
if one is well hid away by the still water, their active swim-
ming and graceful diving can be seen to good advantage.

THE DAB CHICK. 173

Spreading considerably apart, they allow themselves plenty
of room. How the ripples, started by their breasts, enlarge
like arcs of circles on the glassy surface, and intersecting
each other, move on increasingly to the shore. In quick suc-
cession they glide softly under the water, and remain for
some time, no doubt taking their food of small fishes and
aquatic grasses. Nothing can exceed the ease and graceful-
ness with w^hich they dive, so tipping under the water as
barely to ruffle the mirror-like surface. Presently they
reappear, one after another, shaking their heads, and look-
ing this way and that as if to make sure of their safety,
but still swimming well out of the w^ater. Gliding along
much more rapidly than Ducks, they describe their elegant
curves for a few seconds, and then all disappear again.
What a happy family they are! Should they take alarm,
using their wings to aid in swimming, they will literally
fly under water, coming up a long distance away, and so
contracting their bodies in respiration, and thus lessening
their specific gravity, as barely to protrude the head or bill
on coming up to breathe, and probably in a few minutes
will all entirely disappear among the sedges and cat-tails.
Though easily shot when not on the lookout, if once sus-
picious of danger it is almost impossible to capture them,
since they will dive between the flash of the gun and the
arrival of the charge.

How does any bird dare to set out on the immense flights
of migration with such tiny wings! They might serve the
same purpose as the fins of a fish, but who would imagine
them at all sufficient for flight! Indeed, the wing of the
Grebe is a compromise between a wing and a fin, it being
the smallest wing possible for flight to a bird of its size —
and what a mere apology for a tail is that little tuft
of hair — a common mark of all the Grebes. The

174 THE DA SCHICK .

posterior position of his legs, making him appear in stand-
ing like an ancient skin-bottle, as well as his long lobate
toes, clearly shows that he was not made for walking, but for
swimming. He seems to understand alike his weakness
and his strength, for when disturbed, he prefers to take to
the water rather than to the air — hence that common but
rather profane name of the family — ''Hell-divers."

If there are birds which seem to be designed to live
almost entirely in the air, here is a kind evidently designed
to live almost entirely on the water. Its migrations would
seem to be by means of the great water-courses, rather
than through the aerial highways. Its food is taken from
the water, and its nest is a floating fabric.

The Grebes belong to the order Fygopodes, or Diving Birds,
and constitute the strongly marked family Fodicipidce.
They stand next to the Loons which they resemble quite
strongly, notwithstanding many minor points of differ-
ence, and they are the last family in the present systems of
classification of birds. The breast-bone is very firm, and
the keel is large. The lower region of the bones of the
back has the same keel-like ridge which, to receive the
immense muscles of the thigh, is so noticeable in the skeleton
of the Loon. The legs extend backward, and are joined
by strong muscles to the back, to secure facility in diving,
the bird kicking upward against the water in this act. The
tarsi are almost as flat as a knife-blade, which form greatly
aids in swimming, as it affords the least possible resistance;
the feet are continuously lobed, and more or less joined by
a web at the bases of the toes, the claws on the latter being
flattened like human toe-nails. The bill is generally rather
long and pointed. The eyes are far forward, with a bare
space in front. The exquisite coat of down in which the
young appear is black, elegantly striped with white, and

THE DABCHICK. I75

marked with red about the head. In most species the color
of the plumage changes greatly with the season, and there
is a conspicuous ruff or ornament about the head of the
male in the breeding period. The plumage of the under
parts has a peculiar open structure and a satiny, lustrous
surface, inducing its use as fur. The nesting habits of the
family are similar throughout.

The Dabchick is some 13.00 long. The bill, which is
shorter and thicker than that of most Grebes, is pale blue,
with a black ring around the part perforated by the nostril.
The upper parts are dark brown, the fore-neck reddish, belly
white, sides grayish; under the chin there is a black spot in
spring, the only distinguishing mark of the breeding season.
In the fall this last mark is wanting, and the young have
the throat white, streaked with dark. Late in the fall even
the young are much smaller than the parents.

Having had my attention called to the breeding of this
species at St. Clair Flats by the communications in the
Oologist — now Ornithologist and Oologist — by Mr. W.
H. Collins, a distinguished taxidermist of Detroit, I gave
the matter a careful investigation when visiting that place
in the spring of 1882. The nest, built up from the bottom
in water from a foot to eighteen inches deep, to several
inches above the water, is a sort of pier, sheltered by sedges,
cat-tails and rushes; and though stationary as thus pro-
tected, is so nearly afloat that any considerable agitation of
the water will rock it to and fro. It is a carefully-laid pile
of soaked and decaying rushes of former years, and other
decaying matter from the bottom, with a good deal of the
larger fresh water algae mixed in. Cylindrical, some
18 inches in diameter, and symmetrically rounded at the
top, and having a slight depression for the eggs, it is the
wettest, dirtiest, nastiest thing to be conceived of in the way

176 THE DABCHICK.

of a bird's nest. On this filthy arrangement are placed
some six or eight eggs, about 1.25 x -87, white, tinged
or waved with light green, the surface being rather rough
or granulated. They are soon soiled from contact with the
nest. The birds are exceedingly on the alert, leaving the nest,
and partially covering the eggs with the wet material, and
getting entirely out of sight before the nest is discovered.
On examining the nest, however, there can be no doubt as
to the method of incubation. The eggs are quite warm,
and there is nothing in the condition or temperature of the
nest that will at all account for the warmth. The newly
hatched young, jet-black, with six narrow, white stripes over
the back extending up on the neck, and red or reddish
markings about the head, underneath w^hite, bill red, and
feet black, are truly beautiful; and so keen is their instinct
of fear as soon as they are out of the shell, that they will
scramble off the nest and hide among the rushes before one
can detect the nest; and but for their chicken-like peeping,
their presence would not be suspected. Meanwhile the
plaintive whistle of the parent bird may be heard in the
vicinity, now here, now there, but seldom, indeed, does she
allow herself to be seen. Now ensconce yourself away and
remain quiet for a few minutes, and this mother diver will
make her appearance, looking sharply in every direction,
and softly whistling together her scattered brood. Well
understanding these coaxing notes, the little ones gather
around her from among the rushes and sedges, and, as she
swims deeply, mount on her back for a ride. This is truly
a pretty sight, as well calculated to soften the heart as is
the cooing of the Dove. Occasionally you will see this bird
take her young under her wings, when alarmed, and dive
with them, the little ones remaining under for some time,
but generally coming up before the parent.

THE HORNED GREBE. 177

The Dabchick breeds abundantly about St. Clair Flats,
still more abundantly to the northwest, as in Northern Min-
nesota and Dakota, and more or less, indeed, from the
northern limits of the Southern States to the Gulf of St.
Lawrence; and though its winter habitat is in the South-
ern States, it has been found in midwinter as far north as
Southern New England.

THE HORNED GREBE.

The Horned Grebe (Podiceps cormitiis) is the most numer-
ous member of its family in this locality during the migra-
tions. In the last week of April or the first week of May, it
is very common on our streams and ponds. On the broad
and beautiful current of Niagara River, below the gorge, these
birds may then appear in flocks of hundreds; and their sport-
ing and diving is a sight worth seeing. Now they are all
gliding hither and thither along the surface; now they go
down in rapid succession till every bird is under water, and
again they come up as quickly, till the vast number is once
more in full sight. Now the male expands his ruff to full
effect, giving his thus greatly enlarged head, set off with
pointed bill and red eyes, altogether a peculiar appearance.
Probably all the Grebes migrate for the most part by means
of the great water-courses, and so depend but little on their
rather imperfect powers of flight in this great emergency.

In the early days of spring, as the Horned Grebes pass
along our inland water-courses, it is so common to see them
in pairs that I infer they must mate before leaving their
winter habitat.

About 14.00 long, w^ing some 6.00, bill .75 and quite

slender and pointed, the male has the crest and ruffs

well developed. Very dark brown above, many of the

feathers generally fringed with light gray; below satiny

12

178 THE HORNED GREBE.

white, the curved secondaries white; the black head and
ruffs with a yellowish-brown tuft or horn extending from
the eye to the back of the head, the continuation of the
same in front of the eye chestnut; the neck, except a black
strip down the back, chestnut or brownish-red.; sides and
flanks brown and white mixed. The female is similar, with
the ruff much reduced, and the colors less pure and bright.

Concerning the breeding of this species, Dr. Coues says:
*' I found it breeding at various points in Northern Dakota,
as along the Red River, in the prairie sloughs, with Coots,
Phalaropes and various Ducks, and in pools about the base
of Turtle Mountain, in company with P. calif or nicus and the
Dabchick. I took fresh eggs on the 20th of June at Pem-
bina, finding them scattered on a soaking bed of decayed
reeds, as they had doubtless been disturbed by the hasty
movements of the parents in quitting the nest; there were
only four; probably more would have been laid. They are
elliptical in shape, with little or no difference in contour at
either end; dull whitish, with a very faint shade, quite
smooth, and measure about 1.70 x 1-20. On Turtle Moun-
tain, late in July, I procured newly-hatched young, swim-
ming with their parents in the various pools. At this early
stage the neck is striped, as in the common Dabchick."

The autumnal dress of this Grebe is so different from that
above described of the spring, that one not aware of the
identity of the bird in its changed habit would suppose it to
be another species. The ruff is barely indicated by a slight
lengthening of the feathers about the head, while the back
and under parts are nearly as in spring; the crown, back
part of the neck, and the sides are a sooty gray; the chin,
throat and sides of the head, white; forepart of the neck,
light ashy-gray. Thus clad, they appear in Western New
York in October, sometimes singly or in small numbers, on

777^ RED-NECKED GREBE. 179

Streams and ponds, sometimes in flocks of hundreds along
the margin of Lake Ontario, or on other large bodies of
water. In their autumnal appearance there is something
particularly chaste and elegant, and finely in harmony with
the cold, gray surf in which they are so sprightly and
active.

THE CRESTED GREBE.

The Crested Grebe {Podiceps cristatus) is common in North
America, especially in the more northern parts of the conti-
nent, and is also abundant in Western Europe. It is much
larger than either of those above described, being some
24.00 long and about 33.00 in extent. The ruff on the
male of this species is very large, and the crest, looking very
much like two horns, is very conspicuous. The crown,
crest and terminal part of the ruff is glossy black; base of
the ruff bright reddish-brown; fulvous over the eye; cheeks
and throat silky white; back of the neck and upper parts,
generally, dark brown, the feathers edged with light-brown
or gray; sides of the body reddish, streaked with dusky;
fore-neck, and under parts, pure silky white. In this bright
spring plumage, the male, with his long, slender, graceful
neck, is a truly beautiful object on the water. In the
autumn the crest and the ruffs are absent, and the head and
neck are of the same continuous plain color. This species
breeds to the north, and is said to construct the same bulky,
floating nest, tied to the reeds and rushes, as the rest of the
family; and to have eggs similar, only correspondingly
larger.

THE RED-NECKED GREBE.

The Red-necked Grebe {Podiceps griseigena var. holbolli)
is also found in North America. It is quite a little less in
length than the former, being only 19 inches, but it is more
bulky, and its bill and tarsi are much shorter. The adult

180 PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS.

breeding plumage is described by Dr. Coues as follows:
'' Crests short and ruffs scarcely apparent. Bill black, the
tornia of the upper mandible at base and most of the lower
mandible yellowish. Crown and occiput glossy greenish-
black; back of the neck the same, less intense, and the upper
parts generally the same, with grayish edgings of the
feathers. Wing-coverts and primaries uniform chocolate-
brown, the shafts of the latter black. Secondaries white,
mostly with black shafts and brownish tips. Lining of
wings and axillars white. A broad patch of silvery-ash on
the throat, extending around on sides of the head, whitening
along line of juncture with the black of the crown. Neck,
except the dorsal line, deep brownish-red, which extends
diluted some distance on the breast. Under parts silky
white, with a shade of silvery-ash, each feather having a
dark shaft-line and terminal spot, producing a peculiar
dappled appearance." To the far northwest there are also
the Eared Grebe and the Western Grebe.

PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS.

Before entering Lake Ontario, Johnson's Creek bends
northward, and again runs but a little north of westward,
thus entering obliquely, and forming a narrow point of land
between its right bank and the lake. This point is for the
most part well wooded, as is also a considerable part of
the opposite bank, thus making a fair retreat for water-
fowl in their migrations. Here the creek is pretty wide, and
its surface is smooth. As I sit on the bank, concealed in
the bushes, a flock of some dozen Ducks drops into the
stream a distance up, but near enough to be well studied
with the aid of a glass. They are Widgeons {Mareca a7?ien-
cana) and Pintails {Dafila acuta). Both are beautiful species
of our fresh waters, and are frequently seen together, when

PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS, 181

they come from the north from September onward, and
again when they return to their breeding grounds in spring,
which is generally during April, but is sometimes as late as
the first week in May. Not only -do they journey together,
but they continue together, and also in company with the
Teals and Mallards, being often in large flocks in the South-
ern States in winter, and breeding abundantly together in
the north, especially about the cedar swamps of Hud-
son's Bay, and the lowlands of Milk River and its tribu-
taries, as also through Northern Dakota and Montana
generally. In the first-named locality the Pintail is said to
breed the most abundantly of all the Ducks.

This species, inclusive of the long, ornamental feathers in
the center of his tail, is 29.00 long, and his extent of wings
is 36,00; bill long and narrow; neck very long and slender;
head a glossy dusky-brown to half-way down the neck in
front, the centers of the feathers being darker, and the
whole somewhat tinged with violet or green toward the
back of the head; front of the lower neck, and strips up the
side of it to the back of the head, white; strip down the
back of the head black, becoming gray on the neck; upper
parts of a general grayish or dusky effect, the dusky feathers
being for the most part delicately penciled with white; the
long-pointed scapulars, tertiariesand tail feathers, except the
two long black ones in the center, black or dusky, edged or
streaked with white or gray; beauty spot green, the bar in
front rich olive, that behind white; under parts white,
often tinged with olive.

The female, having the feathers in the center of the tail
only about a half-inch longer than the rest, and being
otherwise slightly smaller than the male, is but 22.00 long,
with some 34.00 extent of wing; her head is dark brown, her
neck dingy white, thickly specked with brown; the dusky, or

182 PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS.

blackish of the upper parts is marked crosswise with brown-
ish-white; breast and under parts, brownish-white, marked
with white.

On the still waters of this creek, sheltered on both sides
by the woods, this Duck is well at home, since it is emphat-
ically an inland species — frequenting prairie sloughs, ponds
and rivers, seldom reaching the sea coast and never breed-
ing with the Ducks of the ocean to the north. What a
striking object of beauty is that male, swimming with his
breast well immersed and his back parts thrown up, his
elegant tail elevated almost to the perpendicular, his long,
slender, swan-like neck sinuating most gracefully about him,
and every part of his lengthy and finely-formed body
marked and colored in brilliant contrasts! The Pintails,
four males and four females, separate from the Widgeons,
the one flock going to one side of the creek and the other
to the opposite side. The Pintails swim close together, and
seek their food in the shallow margins. They do not dive
so as to disappear, but, immersing their head and breast,
throw up their feet into the air. They are no doubt in
search of tadpoles, for which they labor with much avidity
in spring. As they raise their heads above water, the
males occasionally utter a rather soft and musical jabber,
wholly unlike the hoarse squak of the Mallard or the
Dusky Duck. Discerning no object of danger, and feeling
perfectly at home in this retired nook, they go ashore in the
edge of the woods and turn over the leaves in search of
snails, insects, and the beech-nuts of last year, scarcely
sprouted as yet. One even snaps his bill at a passing fly,
while another captures a drowsy, fluttering moth, just abroad
from his winter quarters. How finely they walk with tails
erect. Ah! they have taken alarm, and rise en masse on
wing. Were I within range of shot I might take them all

PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS. 183

with the contents of one barrel, so closely do they fly.
Once aloft in the air they are a most graceful figure in the
landscape; their full length of neck, body and tail, with
short and quiet flap of the wings, giving them the appear-
ance of a volley of huge arrows against the clear ether.
What could awaken more pleasing emotions than scenes
like these?

Concerning the breeding habitat of the Pintail, Dr. Coues
says: "Although I have not recognized it in the Missouri
region proper during the breeding season, yet I found it to
be one of the commonest of the various Ducks that nest in
the country drained by the Milk River and its tributaries
throughout most of the northern parts of Montana. In
traveling through that country in July, I found it on all the
prairie pools and alkaline lakes. At this date the young
were just beginning to fly, in most instances, while the old
birds were for the most part deprived of flight by moulting
of the quills. Many of the former were killed with sticks,
or captured by the hand, and afforded welcome variation of
our hard fare. On invasion of the grassy or reedy pools
where the Ducks were, they generally crawled shyly out
upon the prairie around, and there squatted to hide, so
that we procured more from the dry grass surrounding than
in the pools themselves. I have sometimes stumbled ^"hus
upon several together, crouching as close as possible, and
caught them all in my hands."

He then adds from Dr. Dall concerning this same species:
" Extremely common in all parts of the Yukon, and on the
marshes near the sea coast. In the early spring, arriving about
May 1st, at Nulato, it is gregarious; but as soon as it com-
mences to breed, about May 20th, or later, they are gen-
erally found solitary or in pairs. Their nest is usually in
the sedge, lined with dry grass, and, in the absence of both

184 PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS.

parents, is covered with dry leaves and feathers. * *
* * They lay from six to ten, or even twelve eggs,
and as soon as the young are hatched they withdraw from
the river to the small creeks and rivulets, where they remain
until the ducklings are fully able to fly, when all repair to
the great marshes, where, on the roots of the horse-tail
(Equisetum), they grow so fat that frequently they cannot
raise themselves above the water."

It is further added, that "a nest-complement of seven
eggs, from the Yukon, now in the Smithsonian, furnishes
the following characters: Size 2.10 x 1.50-2.30 X 1.55;
shape, rather elongate ellipsoidal; color, uniform dull gray-
ish-olive, without any buff or creamy shade."

This species is common also to the Old World.

Our American Widgeon, or Baldpate, though very simi-
lar in size, form, and marking to that of Europe, is still
specifically different. Some 22 inches long and 30 in extent,
the bill is slate-color, the nail black; the crown creamy,
sometimes almost white; cheeks and neck the same, specked
and spotted with black; patch from around the eye to the
nape, including the pendent crest, glossy green; line down
the back of the neck, the breast and sides, vinous or purp-
lish-brown — the tips of the feathers somewhat hoary and
the sides cross-penciled with wavy lines of black; belly,
w^hite; crest, black; back and scapulars, vinous bay, ele-
gantly crossed with wavy lines of black; lower back, pri-
maries, and tail, the central feathers of which are elongated,
dusky; speculum velvety black, with a cross-line of glossy
green next to the coverts which are white, the greater ones
tipped with black and bounded with gray above; the outer
web of the elongated tertiaries velvety — black edged with
white; under tail-coverts black, contrasting strongly with
the white vent.

PINTAILS AND WIDGEONS. 185

The female has the head and neck brownish-white, thickly
specked and streaked with black; back and scapulars, dusky-
brown, the feathers edged with drab or light reddish-
brown, those on the back elegantly waved with narrow
lines of chestnut-red; wing dusky, speculum and coverts
edged with white; the purplish-brown of the breast some-
what as in the male, but lighter, and mixed with dusky;
under parts like the male, except the tail-coverts, which are
white and brown-spotted.

This bird has the habits of our fresh-water Ducks in gen-
eral, spending the winter on the rivers, streams, bays, lakes,
ponds, and flooded fields of the Southern States; it feeds on
rice, grains, the seeds of grasses, roots, aquatic insects,
mast, and small fry. Whether on the land or on the water
it is a beautiful and graceful object. On the wing it is
direct and swift, having the whistling stroke more or less
common to its near allies. Swimming or flying, the flocks
move compactly, and so afford a good sight to the marks-
man.

The Widgeon may tarry with us till well on in April, and
returns again from the north early in September, and
may be seen through October. Pairing before starting for
its breeding grounds, it has a soft, whistling or flute note —
szwee, szwee.

Concerning its nidification. Dr. Coues says: "The
Widgeon breeds in abundance in Northern Dakota and
Montana, along the banks of the streams and pools. Some
such places which I visited, the resort of many pairs of
various Ducks during the breeding season, and of innumer-
able flocks during the migrations, resemble the duck-yard
of a farm, in the quantities of moulted feathers and amount
of ordure scattered everywhere. I was surprised to find young
Widgeons still unable to fly, even as late as the middle of

186 THE SCAUP DUCK.

September, at a time when all the other Ducks observed
were well on the wing. Although this bird passes far north,
many nest in various parts of the United States. Audubon
notices its breeding in Texas, and others in the Middle
States, about the Great Lakes, and in Oregon. Mr. Dall
found it nesting along the Yukon with the Pintail." The
Widgeon's eggs are 8-12, 2.00 x 1.50, pale buff.

THE SCAUP DUCK.

On the 16th I go about two miles westward along the
lake shore in company with a friend to a place where a
small stream enters the lake through a low tract of land,
and, as the mouth is frequently closed with the stones and
gravel thrown up by the waves, the waters thus obstructed
form a large irregular pond, and afford a resort for Ducks,
spring and fall. As we approach this pond we discover a
flock of some half-dozen Scaup Ducks [Fuligtda marila),
swimming in a line, near the farther bank. In the act of
swimming the white feathers of the sides are thrown up
over the wings, so that the males appear white with black
heads. How rapidly and gracefully they move!

Scrambling along almost on hands and knees we pass to
the other side on a ridge of small stones and gravel now-
thrown across the narrow mouth of the pond, and follow
a depression behind the opposite bank, thus coming within
short range of the Ducks without being seen. We rise and
fire, and only kill one Duck, which neither of us can claim
with certainty. The rest of the flock fly out over the lake,
which is lashed into fury by the wind, and instantly return
to see what is become of the missing one.

The Scaup Duck, Black-head, or Blue-bill — for it is
known by all these common names — is 16 or 17 inches in
length, rather short and flat-bodied, with an unusually

THE SCAUP DUCK. 187

broad bill of a clear light-blue; the male has the head,
neck, shoulders, and breast black, with soft reflections of
green and violet on the head and upper part of the neck, with
a tendency to a broad, brown ring around the lower part of
the neck; back white, crossed by broad zigzag lines of black;
rump, tail, and wings black, the latter with reflections of green,
and having the secondaries white, tipped, and slightly edged
with black; tertiaries, and shoulders finely sprayed with
white; under parts and sides white, the latter delicately
touched with gray. The female, having a broad, white
mark at the base of the upper mandible, has the entire
upper parts grayish-brown, lighter about the head, neck,
and breast; the ends of the feathers on the back sometimes
delicately sprayed with white, or silvery gray; under parts
white. The young males, resembling the females, may be
found in all stages between, as they approximate maturity.
The Scaup dives well for its food, a flock thus engaged
affording a lively sight. They are by no means so shy as
some of their kind; and, on being put up, do not generally
fly far before alighting.

This Duck, common to the whole northern hemisphere, is
found alike on fresh and salt waters, and is very common in
this locality during migration. They appear on Niagara
River in great flocks in the migrations, especially in April.
Then they keep for the most part to certain feeding grounds,
and have a peculiar way of huddling together, with a
swarming motion which marks them from other Ducks
even in the distance, and in some places has given them the
name Flocking Fowl. As they rise from the water, their
thick heads, short necks, and short, plump bodies, as also
the plover-like markings in their wings, clearly distinguish
them. Like the following, they remain on Niagara during
severe winters. Mr. Maynard reports them as particularly

188 THE BUFFLE-HEADED DUCK.

abundant in Florida during winter, " fairly swarming on the
St. Johns and Indian rivers, gathering in such large and
compact flocks, especially at night, that they are called
Raft Ducks. In rising from the water, at such times, they
make a noise like thunder. The earlier American ornitholo-
gists were aware of a great difference in the size of different
Scaups in this country, and the later writers have separated
them into two species, on account of this disparity in size.
The specific name of the smaller kind is Affinis. Both kinds
seem to have about the same distribution on this continent.
They breed in British America and in Alaska, the nest being
"very rude, a mere excavation with a few sticks about it."
The nest has been found, however, on St Clair Flats, and
there is a rumor that this species breeds regularly in the
marshes along the south side of Lake Superior. Dr. Coues
found them breeding in large numbers along the Upper
Missouri and Milk River. The eggs, from 1.60 x 2.25 to
1.65 X 2.30, are said to be ashy-green in color, of a dark
tint peculiar to the species.

THE BUFFLE-HEADED DUCK.

Stealthily approaching the stream a little above the pond
a few hours later, we discover a pair of Buffle-heads (Buce-
phala albeold), male and female, riding most gracefully down
the current. Previous to seeing the male of this species on
the water, I could not conceive the propriety of one of its
common names, "Spirit Duck"; but so graceful is the
puffed plumage of the head and neck, and so striking is the
contrast of jet-black and snow-white, that on beholding the
male float lightly, like a beautiful apparition, on the glassy
surface of some pond or stream, one feels that the name is
really descriptive.

Bufifle-head, or Butter-ball, is some 14 inches long. The

THE BUFFLE-HEADED DUCK. 139

head, excepting the broad, white band extending from behind
eyes around the back of the head and upper part of the neck,
including the long thick feathers of the latter, is black, with
green and purple reflections; the back, tail, and greater part
of the wings are black; remaining parts white. The female,
which is still smaller, and destitute of the puffed plumage
peculiar to the head and neck of the male, has the entire
upper parts black, becoming ash on the breast and white
underneath, and has a white mark on the sides of the head
and in the wings.

A little while afterward I saw on Johnson's Creek a beau-
tiful male in company with some half-dozen females. This
is one of the commonest of our fresh-water Ducks. They
are most common in April and October. During the former
month they are quite common, in small flocks, on Niagara
River. As a few remain in the State (New York) during
winter, they are sometimes found on this rapid, open
current during the coldest weather, probably being
excluded at such times from the more quiet water-courses
by the ice. It is a most expert and graceful diver, the
male holding his crest closely before plunging. It is,
indeed, a pleasing entertainment to watch a half-dozen of
these Ducks — they never go in large flocks — diving in some
open space among the great drives of ice-cakes along the
shore. The young have been taken on the lakes of the
Adirondack Mountains; but as '' it usually retires to high lati-
tudes to breed, as along the Yukon and elsewhere in boreal
America, its nidification is not generally known. A set of 14
eggs taken, the accompanying label states, from a feathery
nest in a dead poplar, some distance from the ground, fur-
nishes the following description: Shape, perfectly ellipsoidal;
size, slightly over 2 inches in length by 1^ in breadth;
color, a peculiar tint, just between rich creamy-white and

190 THE RED-BREASTED AIERGANSER.

grayish-olive, unvaried by markings. Other eggs are
described as being xyi long by 1^ broad, and buff-colored."
(Coues).

Not being as shy as some Ducks, and flying rather low,
this elegant little species may be taken with tolerable ease.

As it lives largely on mollusks and small crustaceans,
its flesh is not the most savory.

THE RED-BREASTED MERGANSER.

As I point my glass out over the great lake, lashed into
fury by a strong northeast wind, I see a large flock of Red-
breasted Mergansers or Shell-drakes {Me?'gus serrato?-) beat-
ing their way against the w^ind, and flying low over the
cold, gray waters. As they skim the water in the
distance, their long, slender head and neck, as well as the
narrowness of their form in general, clearly mark their
identity. Common both to Europe and North America,
this species is with us in large numbers in late autumn and
early spring, remaining during winter if the waters are
sufficiently open. This is one of the most abundant species
on the Niagara during April and the early part of May.
Their long, slender, graceful figure, and the bright marking
of the males, render them very conspicuous both on the
water and in flight. On the water they are particularly
proud and graceful, swimming lightly and swiftly, holding
their heads high, and their long, loose crests playing in the
wind. They seem to be paired on their arrival, the mates
generally keeping with each other even in the largest flocks.
The males, however, are quite inclined to turn aside
occasionally, and give attention to other females than their
own. At such times, as also when addressing their mates,
they have a peculiar motion of the head and body. The
male will approach the female, and stretch up his neck,

THE RED-BREASTED MERGANSER. 191

raising the fore part of his body out of the water, and,
plunging forward, will make a low bow with a peculiar jerk
of the head, expanding his red gape wide open, and lifting
his tongue in a very noticeable manner. Feeding mostly
on small fishes, these Mergansers dive readily and deeply,
seeming to prefer rapid currents, against which they " hold
their own " for hours while fishing.

Always partial to fresh waters, it bred in many parts of
our Middle and Eastern States, in Audubon's time, he
having found on two occasions the female in charge of her
brood in the lower parts of Kentucky. It still breeds com-
monly from Northern New England and the upper regions
of the Great Lakes, through New Brunswick, Nova Scotia,
the Magdalen Islands, Labrador, Newfoundland, etc. It
breeds sparingly throughout the great Northwest Territory,
but Mr. Fortiscue does not record it from Hudson's Bay.
The nests are placed on small islands in large bodies of
fresh water, or near fresh water ponds, and along the
margins of streams, in the tall grass or sedges, or under low
bushes. Thus unlike the other Mergansers, which build for
the most part in holes in trees, this species nests on the ground.
The nest is made like that of a Duck — and Ducks' nests in
general are very much alike — and, like it, accumulates
quite a quantity of down as incubation proceeds. The eggs,
6-12, but sometimes as many as 18, are about 2.55 X 1.72,
oval, with strong and smoothly-polished shells, and of a
greenish-brown tint. They are generally deposited from
the middle of May to the middle of June or later, according
to latitude. The young, elegant, little brown creatures, with
white or grayish-white under parts, make for the water at
once, and dive and swim with the utmost readiness.

"At the approach of autumn they resemble the old
females; but the sexes can easily be distinguished by exam-

192 THE RED-BREASTED MERGANSER.

ining the tmguis or extremity of the upper mandible, which
will be found to be white or whitish in the males, and red
or reddish in the females. The young males begin to
assume the spring dress in the beginning of February, but
they do not acquire their full size and beauty until the
second year." (Audubon.)

The male of this species is 24 inches long, with bill car-
mine; head, crest and upper part of the neck black, with a
green gloss; the rest of the neck white, with a black line
adown from the crest; upper part of the back velvety black,
lower part of the back and upper tail coverts an elegant gray,
delicately penciled with black and white; wings and scapular
black, finely marked with white; breast above a light chest-
nut-red, mixed with black; under parts white. He is truly
beautiful. The female, having a less perfect crest than the
male, is brown or brownish-ash above, the feathers edged
with lighter; the sides of the head and neck reddish; the
secondaries and greater wing coverts white, thin dark bases,
forming dark bands on the wing; the under parts are white,
the breast being tinged with gray; the iris is red, and the
feet and bill are nearly so.

As is the case with other Mergansers, the male of this
species has a curious enlargement and modification of the
wind-pipe, the final cause of which seems difficult to explain.

In the more easterly migrations, and also in the breeding
habitat above designated, the Red-breast is much more
common than the rest of the Mergansers.

The long, slender, cylindrical, retrorse-toothed bill of the
Mergansers, commonly called Fish Ducks, distinguishes the
group clearly from the Ducks proper. Their diet also is
more exclusively fishy, thus rendering their flesh unsavory.
Their long, slender bodies, and the hindward position of
their feet, specially adapt them to the pursuit of their prey

THE RING-NECKED DUCK. 193

under water. The group contains only eight species the
world over. They are mostly in the northern hemisphere,
some two species having been found in South America.
The beautiful Smew or White Nun of Europe is only acci-
dental in America.

THE RING-NECKED DUCK.

On my return from Lake Ontario, I find that a friend has
shot a pair of Ring-necked Ducks {Fuligula collaris) on the
New York and Erie Canal. This species, which is peculiar
to North America, is a rather rare migrant in Western
New York, as also in the central parts of the State, and to
the eastward generally. In size and shape, including even
the shape of the bill, it is very nearly related to the Scaups.
In color, also, the females of the Scaups and Ring-neck are
very similar, both being of a light brown, and white under-
neath. The former can readily be distinguished, however,
by her white band at the base of the upper mandible, while
the latter has the white band only at the base of the lower
mandible. The male of the Ring-neck is distinguishable
from that of the Scaup by the dark brown of the entire
upper parts; by his gray speculum, his chestnut ring around
the middle of the neck, but more particularly by the two
almost white rings around the dark bill, the one at the base
and the other near the tip. The Ring-neck bears a close
resemblance to the Tufted Duck of Europe, and for some
time was supposed to be the same. Rising readily out of
the water, it flies rapidly and high, producing a whistling
sound with its wings. Not appearing in large flocks, only
some fifteen or twenty being seen together at a time, they
fly rather scattered, and so afford but a poor mark to the
slaughterer. Diving for their food after the manner of the
Scaups, they subsist on crays, small fishes, snails, frogs,
13

194 THE BARN SWALLOW.

aquatic insects, and roots and seeds of grasses. When
feeding along ponds and streams, they become fat, tender
and luscious. Very little seems to be known of this Duck's
breeding habits, the single brood found in Maine, and the
single nest of eggs reported from New Brunswick, being
regarded as stray cases. Mr. Fortiscue does not report it
from Hudson's Bay; reports from the great northwest ter-
ritory do not mention it, and Dr. Coues is silent as to its
breeding in the northwestern States and Territories.

In 1876, May 27th, the nest was found by Thos. S. Roberts,
of Minneapolis, Minn., in Hennepin County, about eight
miles from the city. It was pretty substantially built and
well finished, on the top of a pile of rotten debris — perhaps
the remains of an old muskrat-house — and was lined with
fine grasses, with a little moss intermixed, and a neat trim-
ming of down. The nine eggs, some 2.23X1.60, were
smooth, and ''of a light greenish-white color."

THE BARN SWALLOW.

On the 19th of April I observe the first Barn Swallows
{Hirundo horreonini). About 4.50 long, this swallow is
readily distinguishable from any other by its extensively
forked tail, and by building its nest inside of the barn on
the sides of beams and rafters; and is so well known to every
one, as scarcely to need description or historical record.
Who is not familiar with its swift, sailing flight, the widely
spread tail, its manner of gliding in through open doors or
windows, or the small, diamond-shaped opening in the
gable of the old-fashioned barn ? Lustrous steel-blue above,
which color extends down the sides of the breast in the
form of an imperfect collar; belly, reddish white; breast and
forehead, chestnut, he is differentiated from the Cliff or
Eave Swallow, not only by the furcate tail, but also by the

THE BARN SWALLOW. I95

white spots in the inner web of the tail feathers, thus form-
ing a sort of sub-marginal band, and by the absence of the
white spot on the forehead, from which is no doubt de-
rived the specific name of Lunifrons, given in identification
of the other.

Sometime in the latter half of May the Barn Swallow's
nest of mud, lined with straw, feathers, etc., is built — un-
less, as is frequently the case, the same birds return to the
uninjured nest of the previous year — and four or five eggs,
some .75 x .55 of an inch, white, specked with brown, are
laid. In due time, the full-fledged young are seen perched
in a row on the edge of the half-bowl nest, the free brim of
which is strikingly different from the jug-nose entrance to
the nest of the Eave Swallow. This row of younglings,
often occupying the entire edge of the nest as they sit with
tails inward, are exceedingly noisy on the appearance of the
industrious parents, and swallow eagerly the food deposited
in their wide-open mouths by the parent bird as she hovers
in front of the nest. I wonder if the capacious mouth and
gullet of the Swallow, so convenient for taking its insect
prey on the wing, did not procure for it its common name !
It would seem altogether probable, though I cannot find
anything on the point in either dictionaries or works on
ornithology. Every part of the world has its Swallow or
Swallows of some kind, and every species of this family is
noted for that peculiar twitter, so strikingly conversational,
that the Greeks applied the name of the Swallow as an
epithet to designate the jargon of barbarian tongues. Listen
to those prolonged twitterings of the Barn Swallow's family
in the nest, and afterward about the beams and rafters of
the barn, and again as several families perch in long rows
on the telegraph wires, previous to migration ! Do they
not sound like veritable sentences of some unknown Ian-

196 THE ROUGH-LEGGED HAWK.

guage, uttered with great spirit, and intermixed with strains
of merry laughter? Already in the olden times Virgil
noted the " Swallow's twitter on the chimney-tops." Bry-
ant, of our own times, sings of '' the gossip of Swallows
through all the sky;" and Tennyson tells how the Swallows
"chirp and twitter twenty million loves."

The Barn Swallow sometimes raises a second brood in
late June or early July. Mr. Burroughs says: "A friend
tells me of a pair of Barn Swallov/s which, taking a fanciful
turn, saddled their nest in the loop of a rope that was pen-
dent from a peg in the peak, and liked it so well that they
repeated the experiment next year."

This American Swallow occupies North and Middle Amer-
ica to the arctics, and spends the winter in the West Indies.
There is a closely-allied variety, probably of the same spe-
cies, Erythrogastei\ in South America.

THE ROUGH-LEGGED HAWK.

About the middle or twentieth of April, sailing low and
slow over some wet field or marsh, or along some streamlet,
much resembling both in size and movement the Red-tailed
Hawk, but readily distinguished by the large amount of
white in his expanded wings and tail, and plumage gener-
ally, we occasionally see the Rough-legged Buzzard or
Hawk [Arc/iibuteo lagopus). It is simply a passenger to the
north, breeding, as is supposed, entirely beyond the Union;
returning to us again about the last of October or the first
of November, and wintering farther south, in the seaward
portions of the Middle and Southern States, but not beyond.
As a passenger, it is by no means rare here.

The male about 20.00 and the female about 22.00
long, this species, common to both Europe and Amer-
ica, is always to be determined by its thickly-feathered

THE ROUGH-LEGGED HAWK. 197

tarsus. Above, the feathers are a deep, rich brown, edged
for the most part with light-red and whitish; feathers of
the head and neck, yellowish-white, with a streak of brown
in the center; breast, femoral and tarsul feathers, yellowish
or buff, sometimes white; tail, toward the base, including
under coverts, white, dark-brown toward the tip. It is
characterized by a broad abdominal band of rich dark-
brown, forming a beautiful apron. In the more easterly
part of its habitat, our American Rough-leg shades into a
beautiful dark variety, Sancti-johannis, often called the
Black Hawk.

This bird is particularly drowsy in its habits, resting mo-
tionless for a long time on its perch, preferring to take its
low flight in dark days, or in the evening twilight. Accord-
ing to Sir John Richardson, it " is often seen sailing over
swampy pieces of ground, and hunting for its prey by the
subdued daylight, which lightens even the midnight hours
in the high parallels of latitude.'"' This habit, as also its
thickly feathered tarsus, reminds one of the Owls. Its bill
of fare is given as consisting of field-mice and other very
small quadrupeds, lizards, frogs, even insects, and rarely
birds. On the second day of last November, one of these
Hawks killed a domestic fowl straying in the field in this
vicinity. Immediately a trap was set, baited with the re-
mains of the hen, and in a few minutes the Hawk was
caught by the foot.

The nest of this species, built of sticks, is placed in tall
trees, sometimes on cliffs. Its three or four eggs, 2.33 X 1.75,
are dull-white or creamy, smirched or blotched with brown.

Wilson, who found these Hawks numerous in winter, below
Philadelphia, between the Schuylkill and the Delaware, re-
ports them as making a "loud squealing " as they arose on
being disturbed, "something resembling the neighing of a

198 THE SAVANNA SPARROW.

young colt, though in a more shrill and savage tone." Cooper
also speaks of their calling to each other with a "loud
scream."

THE SAVANNA SPARROW.

From the 15th to the 20th of April, the Savanna Sparrow
(JPasser cuius savanna) arrives in these parts, and is an
abundant resident until late in October or early in No-
vember. About 5.50 long, with the common marking
of the Sparrows above, white beneath, breast thickly spotted
in streaks, this is one of the lighter colored Sparrows, and is
always distinguishable by means of its yellow streak over
the eye and yellowish wash on the cheeks, combined with
the spotted breast, none other of our Sparrows having both
of these characters. It has also a little yellow on the edge of
the shoulder of the wing. In its colors and markings gen-
erally it resembles the Bay-winged Sparrow in the distance^
but is readily differentiated by its smaller size, and the absence
of the white in the outside feathers of the tail. It has the sharp
chipping note of its family, but its song is strongly marked,
and may be represented by the notes, zip-zip-zip-zwree-e-e-e-
e-e, zwree, the first three being short, subdued, and uttered
in quick succession, while the fourth is louder and drawn
out into a sort of trill or twitter on the upward slide, and
the latter is much shorter, and with the falling inflection.
The song is not loud, and has but little variation, but is one
of those gentle, drowsy sounds in nature which are decid-
edly soothing. While this species is not generally
dispersed, it seems almost to monopolize certain upland
fields and meadows, in which places its melodies are almost
the only bird-song to be heard. Being strictly terrestrial,
almost never rising above the fence, and keeping so closely
to the fields as scarcely ever to be seen in the highway, thus
being very unlike the Bay-wing, its nest is sunk into the

THE SWAMP SPARROW. I99

ground like that of the latter, but is much more thoroughly
concealed in the weeds or tall grass. It is slight, and com-
posed almost entirely of dried grasses. The eggs, 4 or 5,
often not more than 3, about .76 x -54, are greenish or
grayish white, spotted and blotched with light brown and
lilac, especially about the large end where the markings
may become coronal. Sometimes the markings are dark
brown, and become so thick as almost to conceal the ground-
color. There are evidently two broods, the first in May and
the second late in June. The bird leaves the nest quietly,
and runs along in the grass apparently without alarm,
even gleaning her food as she goes.

The Savanna Sparrow has always been regarded as par-
ticularly numerous near the sea-coast, breeds from Mary-
land and corresponding latitudes northward, and winters in
great abundance in the Southern States.

The Ipswich Sparrow [Passer cuius prmceps^, first reported
by Mr. Maynard, and since found to be a rather common
migrant from the north late in the fall, some remaining in
New England during the winter, may be simply a more
northern variety of the Savanna Sparrow, than which it is a
little larger, and paler in color and markings.

THE SWAMP SPARROW.

As early as the 22d of April, in the marshes of Tona-
wanda Swamp, I have heard the song of the Swamp Spar-
row [Melospiza pahcstj'is^. The exact notation is difficult to
render in syllables. Nuttall speaks of it as "a few trilling,
rather monotonous, minor notes, resembling, in some
measure, the song of the Field Sparrow, and appearing
like twe^ tiv' tiu tw' tw' tw" twe^ and twV twil 'tin tw' twe,
uttered in a pleasing and somewhat varied warble." I
would add that the trill is in a clear, whistling tone, sound-

200 THE SV/AAIP SPARROW.

ing like tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee, quite sib-
ilant, the notes being essentially the same as those of the
Chipping Sparrow, only in much more prolonged and musi-
cal tones — a sort of enlarged and improved edition of it.
Its common chipping note, too, has something of a whistling
tone, rather than any hoarseness, such as is sometimes
ascribed to it.

Some 5.50 or upwards in length, the upper parts
are a rich reddish-brown, streaked with lighter and with
black; wings deeply edged with clear brown; chin and
belly white, tinged with ash; breast and sides washed with
brownish, resembling the Song Sparrow somewhat, but
smaller and less streaked, and without the spotted breast.
It is of a warmer and more uniform brown than any of the
rest of our Sparrows.

The ordinary situation of the nest, according to the best
ornithologists, is on the ground, after the usual manner of
the Sparrows; but sometimes, especially if the ground is
wet, in a bush, or tussock of sedges. I think the latter is
the much more common situation of the nest. One
which I found in an open, wet marsh of Tonawanda
Swamp, on the 25th of May, was built into a thick tussock of
sedges and cat-tails, about a foot from the ground. It was
in the form of an inverted cone, some seven inches long,
made of coarse grasses and stubble, laid in rough angular
style, seeming to consist of several sections, the rim being
very uneven, with points sticking up in every direction,
reminding one of some rustic picket fence. It was lined
with dried grasses, which wxre a little finer than those used
in the outside. The eggs, four and sometimes five, about
.77 X-51 inch, are greenish-white, finely and thickly specked,
sometimes brushed with brown.

I almost failed to identify the nest above referred to.

THE YELLOW-RUMP ED WARBLER. 901

As I approached it the female slid over the side of it into
the sedges and cat-tails, skulking along on the ground like
a mouse; but, as she crossed an open ditch, she paused to
look at me a few moments, and thus gave me the opportu-
nity of recognition.

A nest from Nova Scotia, now before me, was taken from
a tuft of tall marsh-grass, and is altogether of fine dried
grasses. Neatly cup-shaped, its walls are thick and com-
pactly laid, and through the bottom it is deep and dense.
From the points and angles of dried grasses leaning in
almost every direction around its edge, it is of the same
picket-fence style as the one above described, and the eggs
are similar.

This bird seems confined to Eastern North America,
breeding from the Middle States to Labrador, and winter-
ing in the Southern States. It is quite shy and retiring, its
residence being strictly confined to the swamps and their
marshy vicinity, where it raises two broods in a season. I
found it very abundant among the sedges and tall grasses of
the flooded mashes of St. Clair Flats.

THE YELLOW-RUMPED WARBLER.

On the 22d of April, as I paddle a light boat along the
meandering course of a stream of glassy smoothness in Tona-
wanda Swamp, in the shrubs and bushes, which are densely
thick along its margin and form a belt between either side
of the stream and the tall forests in the immediate vicinity,
I spy a Yellow-rumped Warbler i^Dendroeca coronatd). It is a
fine male flitting leisurely about; the movement of this species
being always rather slow and dignified for one of its kind.

About 5.50 long, he is of a fine ash or slate color,
streaked with black; line over the eye, lower eye-lid, throat,
wing-bars, spots in the outer tail-feathers and belly, white;

202 THE YELLOW-RUMPED WARBLER.

cheeks, and spots across the upper part of the breast and
adown the front, black; crown, rump and sides of the
breast by the wing-shoulders, bright yellow. Does that
golden crown on his head mark him as a king ? or do those
bright epaulets designate him as a general-in-chief ? How-
ever that may be, his dress of drab and black, ornamented
with gold, affords a striking and inost elegant contrast of
colors; and his size, song, general dignity, and priority of
arrival entitle him to be the leader of his large and beauti-
ful family, altogether peculiar to America, and of his numer-
ous genus, also peculiar to North America; none of his genus,
or family, arrive earlier than he, unless, indeed, it may be
the Yellow Red-poll or Palm Warbler, which is exceedingly
rare here; the warblers of the Old World, among which
Robin-red-breast and the far-famed Nightingale are con-
spicuous, being much more closely allied to our Kinglets
than to the great family of their American namesakes.
The female is similar, but not so bright, and the young are
brownish instead of slaty, the yellow markings being quite
dim. This is one of our most beautiful, as also one of our
most common, warblers. Appearing in the Middle States,
and in Southern New England, about the 20th of April, it
passes to the north in considerable numbers for a month or
more, returning southward again late in October or in
November.

The Yellow-rumped Warbler, or Myrtle Bird, breeds from
Northern New England to the arctic regions, and northwest-
ward to Alaska and Washington Territory. The nest, in a
bush or tree, often an evergreen, and but a few feet from
the ground, is about four inches in external and two in in-
ternal diameter, and composed of weed-stalks, vegetable
fibers, rootlets or grasses, often lined with feathers or hair.
One before me, from Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia,

THE YELLOW-RUMPED WARBLER. 903

taken June 16th, and pretty well incubated, was found in a
spruce bush, about three feet from the ground, and con-
tained two eggs. Of about the usual external and internal
diameters, and quite deep — some 2.50 inches — externally
it is composed entirely of fine bleached grasses, and lined
with a continuous and thick felt of dark-red cow's hair,
such as is seen in large quantities about the stumps in
spring, being rubbed off by the cattle in the first sloughing
of their thick coats. Thus the nest has a very unique
appearance — almost straw-color outside, and uniform dark-
red or bright-brown inside. Whether of weed-stalks, vege-
table fibers, rootlets or grasses, it w^ould seem that the nest
of this species is generally quite homogeneous, that is,
made externally, at least, of the one kind of material.
The eggs of the above nest are of the usual measurement
— .72X .54, grayish-white, pretty heavily marked about the
large end, and specked all over with dark-brown and neutral.
Though often getting well up among the tall trees, and tak-
ing somewhat extended excursions into the air after insect
prey, the Myrtle Bird is not so active on the wing as are some
of the Warblers. In spring it has a somewhat loud and pleas-
ing warble, tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee-tswee^ and so
resembling a musical twitter. Indeed, I have often found it
difficult, when visiting the breeding grounds, to distinguish
it from the song of the Snow Bird. In its migrations in
the beautiful days of autumn, this Warbler is sometimes
wont to lisp its song softly. Though this bird breeds so far
north, its nest has been found in the Southern States and in
the West Indies; and while it winters in the Southern States,
and even in the tropics, it is found regularly in the same
season in the Middle States, and even in Southern New
England. There is a closely-allied western variety or spe-
cies, called Audubon's Warbler.

CHAPTER XI.

LATE IN APRIL.

ON the morning of the 21st of April (1880), as I am riding
along the highway by the upland meadows, I spy a
Sparrow Hawk [Falco sparverius), perched on a tall dried
mullein-stalk, close to the road. He keeps his perch till I
am not more than four rods from him, partly because he is
the tamest of all the Hawks, but more especially because I
am riding. Flying off in an irregular zigzag manner, and
not very high, he alights in a small, solitary tree in the open
field. I stop to study him. Presently he starts out from
the tree, flying in his somewhat tipsy manner for a few
rods, giving the impression that he is not after anything
in particular, when he suddenly hovers gracefully for a few
seconds, and retires to the tree again. Evidently he had it
in mind to capture some little creature within the range of
his keen eye, but the chase did not turn out to suit him, so
he has concluded to await the next opportunity. In less than
a minute he sallies forth again, barely hovers, and drops to
the ground, returning to the tree with some small prey,
which, as I turn the glass upon him, I discover to be a field
mouse. Holding it under his claw, he tears it in pieces and
swallows it with a keen appetite, and in a few minutes more
is off again in a similar manner, this time returning with an ele-
gant little snake; which, after munching it pretty thoroughly
with his toothed bill, and stretching it out several times

THE SPARRO W HA WK. 205

with bill and claw, he swallows, with vigorous jerks of the
head, nearly whole. Again he is off, and after hovering
several times, spends some time on the ground, devouring
something as I can plainly see by his actions, made clear by
the glass; probably he is now varying his diet with some
kind of insects, of which he consumes great numbers,
especially such orthoptera as are most noxious to the hus-
bandman. Remaining now longer than usual on his perch,
he jerks his tail every few seconds, as if decidedly impatient
of this long quiet. Now he flies almost towards me, and
dashing into a thicket by the road-side, emerges with a
small Sparrow in his clutches, thus proving himself true to
his name. The flight is within close range of a shot-gun,
and, much as this elegant and useful little Falcon merits
human protection, I reflect that all things — even birds — are
made for man, and so drawing the lock on him bring him
down, the Field Sparrow still in his clutches. It is a male,
some 10 inches long and 21 inches in extent (the smallest
of our Hawks); the bill is particularly pointed and toothed;
the top of his crown is reddish-chestnut, bordered with
slaty, mixed with black; a streak from below the eye down
the side of the throat, one across the tips of the ear-
feathers, a spot on the side of the neck, and a bordering of
the slaty behind the neck, black — making seven black
marks about the head; back and scapulars reddish-brown,
crossed with broken lines of black; wings slaty with black
spots; the primaries dusky, with white spots on the inner
vanes; tail reddish-brown, with a broad, sub-terminal band
of black and a slight tip of white, the outer feathers being
marked with black and white; under parts reddish-white,
with a few roundish spots of black mostly towards the
sides; bill, blue; cere and legs, yellow. The female of this
species is about an inch longer; the chestnut-red on the

206 THE SPARROW HA V/K.

crown being streaked with slaty; the upper parts, includ-
ing the tail, wholly reddish-brown, heavily cross-streaked
with black; the under parts yellowish-white, streaked with
light-brown; the chin, femoral feathers, and vent, clear;
otherwise, like the male. The young are said to be covered
w4th a whitish-dowm at first, but soon approximate the
colors of the mature birds.

The dashing attack of our little Falcon, through thickets
and along hedges, is not only upon Sparrows, but upon the
smaller birds in general. Not only the elegant Bluebird,
the stately Cedar Bird, and the noisy self-conceited Cat-
bird, may become its prey, but even the Robin, the Brown
Thrush, and the Blue Jay — birds almost as large as itself.
Unlike the true Hawks, and some other species of its family,
it does not give a long chase in the open field after its prey,
but, in strict pursuit, stealthily seeks the covert of bushes or
hedge-rows, or it pounces upon the innocent passer-by una-
wares. Seldom, indeed, does it affect the barn-yard, and
then only to pick up a stray chick too remote for parental
interference; and since by far the greater part of its fare
consists of noxious vermin, it merits — as indeed it often
obtains — the sympathy and protection of man.

The Sparrow Hawk generally reaches New York from
the south about the middle of April or before, sometimes
even as early as March, but becomes most common early in
May, when the flood-tide of the migration of the little birds
is fairly set in. Then it may frequently be seen about the
fields and pastures, or even passing leisurely over the
crowded town, with a peculiar butterfly locomotion; and
may always be distinguished from the Sharp-shinned Hawk,
so near it in size, by its long-pointed wings, the Sharp-shin
having rather short and broad wings. Courtship, which
in the case of young males is said to be much varied

THE SPARROW HAWK. 207

and protracted in its antics, begins very soon; and about the
latter part of May or early in June the eggs are laid. As
this bird breeds, however, from Mexico to Hudson's Bay,
and from Maine to California, its time of nidification varies
considerably according to locality. It is well understood
that it generally breeds in some cavity or deserted
Woodpecker's hole, pretty well up in a tree or stub — often
a solitary one in the open field; and that its eggs are laid
on the pulverized debris, with, perhaps, the merest litter of
some strawy material; but it may adopt the old nest
of a Hawk or Crow, may seek out a hole in the wall of some
unfinished stone building, accept the old nest of the
Gray Squirrel; or, as in " the canons of the eastern range of
the Humboldt Mountains," may find a convenience for its
nest "in hollows of limestone cliffs"; or may even find its
way into an apartment by the dove-cote.

The eggs, generally five, some 1.32 X 1.13, are brownish-
white, specked all over, but often more about the large end,
with reddish-brown; but not infrequently the ground is
white or pinkish-white, with large blotches and intermedi-
ate specks of light red all over — the eggs having a peculiar
reddish appearance. Rarely, they are said to be whitish, with-
out any marking.

Unless very seriously disturbed, these Hawks occupy the
same nesting place from year to year, the male sharing in
incubation. They defend even their eggs with dashing
flights, snapping of the bill, and indignant screams at the
intruder. The young, brought out from the shell in about
15 or 16 days, are fed on grasshoppers, crickets and cater-
pillars at first; but afterwards are nourished by small rep-
tiles, birds and quadrupeds. At about six weeks of age
they quit the nest, and when two months old they shift for
themselves. This Hawk accepts no food but that of its

208 THE BLUE-WINGED TEAL.

own capture, and will even reject such as is infected with
parasites. It may go far beyond our southern limits in
winter, but it is not found in the highest latitudes of North
America in summer.

THE BLUE-WINGED TEAL.

On reaching a beautiful large pond, an enlargement of
Oak Orchard Creek, in the edge of the wilderness of Tona-.
wanda Swamp, I seat myself behind a small screen of rails
and bits of board in the corner of the fence, for observation.
It is a beautiful sunny day, with a remarkably clear sky for
the month of April. About ten o'clock in the forenoon a
small flock of Blue-winged Teals {Querquedula discors) fly
down the narrow, glassy stream, and alight on the farther
side of the pond. How straightforward and swiftly they
fly, their narrow-pointed wings beating the air with a grace-
fulness and rapidity truly wonderful. Generally the Teals
reconnoiter the place in cautious, circling flights, before
alighting; but this is a very retired spot, where this flock
has no doubt fed undisturbed for some time; hence, with-
out this ordinary precaution, they drop gently down with
rigidly expanded wings, and, having glanced about them,
soon immerse their heads in search of the naias flcxilis and
other species of the pond-weed family luxuriating in these
quiet waters. Occasionally they throw up their feet and
hinder parts in feeding, but generally float quietly on the
water, simply plunging the head and neck. Every now and
then they change their spot for feeding, swimming so grace-
fully and rapidly that they seem almost like an apparition
on the smooth surface. The tranquility of the place on this
beautiful sunny morning is perfect. There is apparently
not the slightest cause for the suspicion of danger, and the
little flock of Blue-wings seem completely off their guard.

THE BLUE-WINGED TEAL. 209

I cannot detect any vigilance whatever on their part. They
are too far off for a shot, and this I do not particularly
regret, for I am not a pot-hunter, nor a mere anatomic nat-
uralist. I simply like to know what transpires in such remote
and quiet nooks, and how these elegant little Ducks behave
in their undisturbed haunts. I note the elegant form and deli-
cately-penciled coloring of the males in this little flock of Blue-
winged Teals. One of the smallest of our Ducks, it is only 16
inches long and 31 in extent of wings, with small head and
bill and a slender neck; his crown, with a narrow line down
the hind neck is black; there is a white crescent in front of the
eye ; the head is a purplish glossy drab ; the back and scapulars
deep dusky, with concentric wavy lines and tips of reddish;
back deep dusky, edged with drab; longer scapulars and the
tertiaries, greenish-black with medium line of red; wing-
coverts ultra-marine, with a line of white between them and
the glossy green secondaries forming the speculum; the
dusky tail has a white spot on each side, with the under-
coverts black; breast and under parts reddish, elegantly
spotted with black. The female, about an inch shorter
than the male, has the plumage generally dark brown, mar-
gined with brownish-white; the cheeks and throat whitish;
wing-coverts not quite so brightly ultra-marine as in the
male; the dusky-brown feathers of the under parts have a
brownish-white streak or spot in the center. The female
does not have the white crescent in front of the eye. The
young are like the female, and the old males return in the
fall migrations without the sexual markings.

Lingering with us even into May, and returning early in
September, this Teal is one of the last of all the migratory
Ducks to leave us, and about the first to come back from its
more northerly breeding grounds. Though extending far
north, even to Alaska, in the breeding season, they have
14

210 THE BLUE-WINGED TEAL.

been known to rear their young within our limits, as well as
in all suitable places intervening. Being a vegetable feeder,
and a fresh-water bird, it avoids not only the salt water, but
also the cold, clear, rock-bounded waters of the northern
interior, resorting to the mud-flats of great rivers, the quiet,
marshy borders of our lakes, sluggish streams, and ponds
abounding in vegetable growths. In late fall and early
spring it is said to be abundant in the flooded rice-field of
the south. Except in the coldest weather, Audubon testi-
fied to its great abundance about the mouths of the Missis-
sippi in winter; while Wilson speaks of large, dense flocks
in their migrations, on the muddy shoals bordering the Dela-
ware. Swimming or flying, the birds keep so close to-
gether in the flock that great numbers may be taken at a
single shot. I have seen them scouring the shores of Lake
Ontario in great flocks in September, so densely massed in
flight as to appear almost like a cloud, and passing with the
swiftness of the Wild Pigeon. At such times their flight is
truly elegant, the lustrous light-blue of their wings glisten-
ing like polished steel in the sunshine. In spring, one may
occasionally catch their soft, lisping notes. Being sensitive
to the cold for birds of their kind, like our delicate birds of
song, they often pass portions of the winter even in the
tropical regions. After the manner of the Ducks in gen-
eral, the Teals are wedded in the latter part of winter while
yet in the south.

The nest of this species is on the ground on some prairie,
or in some marsh, generally near the water, is made of dried
grasses, sedges and weeds, and lined with down. The eggs,
some eight or more, about 1.75 X 1.31, are very smooth, and
of a dull, creamy white.

Being a vegetable feeder, the flesh of the Blue-winged
Teal is tender and luscious, and is therefore a great desid-

THE GREEN-WINGED TEAL. 9\\

eratum for the table. West of the Rocky Mountains it is
replaced by its near relative, the Cinnamon Teal.

THE GREEN-WINGED TEAL.

Tagging after the little flock of Blue-wings at a distance
of a few yards, like some stray and unwelcomxC relative, was
a solitary male of the Green-winged Teal, his flight being
very similar, and his place of alighting only a few rods dis-
tant and much nearer the shore. Excepting certain aquatic
insects and minute mollusks, the food of this species seems
to be nearly terrestrial — consisting of the seeds of weeds
and grasses, berries and small nuts. Hence it feeds in the
very edge of the water, floating deeply, and plunging the
head and neck, and not infrequently stepping out on the
land, w^here it walks quite gracefully. In the air and on the
w^ater its movements are very similar to those of the Blue-
wing; and, except that it is rather hardier and more north-
erly, reaching us somewhat later in autumn and leaving us
earlier in spring, its habitat and migrations are almost the
same. It, too, for the most part, avoids the sea and the
clear, rocky lake regions, preferring such flooded fields,
sedgy streams, ponds and lakes as bring it in contact with
its favorite vegetable growths, especially such bodies of
water as abound in the wild rice.

Second only to the Wood Duck in beauty is the male of
this elegant species. Some fifteen inches long, and twenty-
four in extent, the head and upper part of the neck are
bright chestnut-brown, the throat dusky, and a patch from
before the eye to the nape, glossy green; the pendent crest
being brown above and black below; back, tail and greater
part of the wings, dusky; the speculum, elegant glossy
green, bounded with jet-black above and below; several of
the scapulars edged wuth black; epaulets white; the rest

212 IVIL SOX'S SiVIPE.

of the upper parts most elegantly white and black penciled;
breast vinous ruddy, finely spotted with black; under parts
buffy white, with patches of clear white and coal black
about the tail. The female has the entire head and neck
dingy white, speckled with black, the breast grayish-brown,
spotted with darker; the back deep brown, crossed with
broad, wavy lines of brownish-white.

Having thoroughly observed this solitary Green-winged
Teal, I rise to my feet, when he takes alarm, rising from
the water at a single bound, and coursing through the air
amidst the tall tree-tops with most surprising rapidity, is
almost instantly followed by the Blue-wings.

The nidification of this species is precisely like that of
the latter, except that the eggs are a trifle larger, about
1.90 X 1.32. The nest may be found from the northern
borders of the United States northward.

Wilson's snipe.

It was the evening of the 22d of April (1880). All the
afternoon I had heard firing of guns in the wild meadows
of Tonawanda Swamp. As twilight approached and the
firing ceased, the air became resonant with the vernal chant
of Wilson's Snipe {Gallinago wilsoni). In every direction
the birds might be seen, describing their ascending and
somewhat spiral curves with that nervous beat of the wings,
so peculiar to themselves, while others, too high to be dis-
cerned in the dusky air, added not a little to the general
vocal effect. This song of the Snipe, characteristic of the
breeding season, or even of the entire spring, and heard
for the most part in the early morning, or in the evening
from twilight till after dark, is at once striking and strongly
differentiated Beginning in subdued tones, somewhat
like the sounds produced by the oblique strokes of a Pigeon's

WILSON'S SNIPE. 213

wings in alighting, the simple notes are uttered rapidly,
and through an ascending scale of nearly an octave in the
shortest chromatic steps, the mellow tones being rather
loudest in the middle of the strain and gradually softening
to the closing and highest note, the whole performance
being after the manner of a swell in music. The notes
might be readily represented by the repetition of the sylla-
ble, koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-
koo; and though not decidedly musical, they have in them
the tenderness and inspiration of spring, readily associating
themselves with April showers, balmy atmospheres, spring-
ing grass, and that northern harbinger of spring-flora —
the blooming amelanchier^

Here and there, on the evening referred to, one might see
the Snipes alighting — dropping slowly and gracefully down
on a falling curve, their wings extending upward at an
angle of some ninety degrees. Generally they disappeared
among the bleached grass and sedges of the previous year
standing in several inches of water; but occasionally they
perched on old stubs, making an odd figure among the
gay Red-wings just greeting the newly-arrived females with
the merriest and sweetest of Blackbird songs.

How vividly I recall the odd antics of the Snipes in the wild
meadow on the old paternal farm in Nova Scotia. How grati-
fying to childhood curiosity was it to hide away in the alder
bushes and watch him as he took his morning or evening
repast. See him walk — almost run — with nimble, easy steps;
his long bill — schnepfe — which, in the old Saxon language,
gave the bird its name, pointing obliquely forward and
downward, and his short tail somewhat thrown up. Now
he probes the soft mud, pushing his limber bill down half
its length or more, and testing almost every square inch
for quite a distance around, the delicate external membrane

214 WILSON'S SNIPE.

of that strongly specialized instrument, well supplied with
the most sensitive nerves, readily detecting the presence of
earth-worms, or such tender roots of plants as are agreeable
to the bird's taste. How queer he looks now, standing in that
half-crouched position, as if intently listening; or, how
pleasing as he stands at ease, one foot raised, and his back-
ward eyes peering weirdly. Or note him as he approaches
the coy female half-hidden in the faded grass so near her
own color. Bending forward with neck shortened and
curved till his breast and the tip of his bill nearly
touch the ground, the tips of his loosened and droop-
ing wings dragging at his sides, and his elevated tail
spread out like a quaint little fan, he struts before her as gay
as a Turkey-cock in miniature. Should anything alarm him,
he will scamper away quite a distance into the thick grasses
and sedges; or, if he be hard pressed, he may take wing,
and, rising a few feet into the air and emitting his charac-
teristic ^^ How-Ike,''* fly in a nervous zigzag rnanner for
a few rods, and quickly drop out of sight. This short and
rapid flight is the supreme moment for a shot. And if
anything will send one's blood tingling to the tips of
fingers and toes, it is to drop this noted creature of the
bog and fen just as he gets fairly under way.

Many a time in boyhood, as I searched for the cows in the
wild meadow close by the stream meandering through the
alders, did the Snipe leave her nest just under my feet.
Merely glancing at the warm, grayish-brown eggs heavily
blotched with umber — the four pear-shaped objects lying
with the small ends together in a mere depression of the
ground on a few leaves or dried grasses — I would start after
the artful bird in her moods of distress. Surely thinking
her sick or wounded and ready to die, as she tumbled and
fluttered about on the ground only a few feet from me,

WILSON'S SNIPE. 215

wheezing and moaning in the most distressed manner, I
would scramble and strive to my utmost to capture her;
but after decoying me a few rods from the nest she would
soon recover and skulk away into the bushes, leaving me to
my own cogitations, as I stood some half-way between her
missing self and the nest now wholly lost sight of.

It would seem that only the female attends to the duties of
incubation, the male being cognizable in the vicinity at all
times of day, and sometimes giving his aerial serenade as
late as eleven o'clock at night. The eggs are about 1.60 X
1.12, the yellowish or grayish-olive color varying consider-
ably in different clutches; the dark umber and obscure
spots and blotches extending more or less all over the shell,
but thickening and enlarging at the large end. The young,
of a grayish-yellow, heavily streaked with several shades of
brown, according to the precocious habits of the infant
Waders, leave the nest as soon as they are out of the shell,
feeding on the insects found in mud, moss and meadow-
grass, until their tender bills are firm enough to probe the
soft ooze.

As is the case with the European Snipe, which ours so
closely resembles, Wilson's Snipe is one of the most fasci-
nating of game-birds to the sportsman. Mark this happy
specimen of the human race, as with hip-boots, trusty gun,
full accoutrements, and faithful pointer, he creeps stealthily
through the tall sedges! The dog alone has that high
sensibility of the olfactory nerves which can take the subtle
scent of this noted game-bird, but his master is all eye and
ear to see in what direction the bird will lie to the dog; and
so when the bird is put up he is ready to take it in its quick,
short, and rather irregular flight, with that ready skill
which consummates the pleasure of a genuine sportsman.
And if he bring home his game-bag well filled with

216 THE LARGE YELLOWSHANKS.

Snipe, he considers the hardest day's tramp well re-
warded.

The Snipe is 11 inches long, bill 2)^ or more, grooved on
the sides, enlarged at the end, and though smooth in life,
becomes marked like a thimble when dried. The crown is
deep brown, with median line of brownish-white; sides of
the head light reddish-brown, with a dark brown streak
from the nostril to the eye, and a whitish spot above, and
one in front of the eye; upper parts deep brown, specked,
spotted and streaked with reddish-brown and white; wings
dusky brown; fore-neck and breast brown and buffy-white,
spotted and waved; tail chestnut-red, marked with black
and white; under parts white; sides barred with black.
The female is a little lighter colored than the male.

THE LARGE YELLOWSHANKS.

Firing into a flock of Rusty Grakles, gleaning food from
the ground bordering a flooded field in the vicinity of Ton-
awanda Swamp, on the 30th of April (1880), I roused a flock
of some fifty of the large Yellowshanks {Totanus melanoleii-
ciis). They rose in the most excited manner only a few
rods from me, emitting their loud whistling notes, cree-oo^
cree-oo^ cree-oo, the volume of which, coming from the whole
flock, might well alarm all the feathered tribes in the
neighborhood, thus making good their reputation among
gunners as Telltales, or Tattlers. With the long bill and
neck stretched forward, the long legs extended backward,
and the long-pointed wings forming gull-like arcs in their
rapid, steady beating, this flock, circling swiftly over the
field several times and then fading out in the distance,
makes one think of the sea and its multitudes of water-fowl.

Knowing that these birds will soon be back, I hide behind
the fence, ready to give them a salutation. In about half

THE LARGE YE LLO IV SHANKS. 217

an hour they reappear Hke black specks against the gray
clouds. In a few seconds I can define them clearly above
the tall forest, and can hear the clangor of their peculiar
voices; after circling several times over the inundated
field they alight about three gun-shots off, each pair of
wings pointing straight upward for a few moments, as if to
be sure that every feather is in place before folding. For a
few moments they glance around to assure themselves that
all is safe. Then wading about in a hurried manner, half-
way to their bodies in water, with much balancing and
vibrating of the body and graceful darting of the head in
various directions, they seek their food of aquatic insects,
worms, minute moUusks and tiny fishes. Creeping along
stealthily behind the fence till I arrive within shot-range, I
wing several with one charge. The flock, rising and scatter-
ing for a few moments, as if disconcerted, come together
and hover over their wounded comrades as thickly as wings
can vibrate among each other, calling to them most pit-
eously. Strange to say, I pointed my gun at the hovering
c^oud, and who can tell what might have been the conse-
quences had it not failed to go off. This hovering over
wounded companions, common to various kinds of water-
birds which go in flocks, is a most affecting manifestation
of fellow-sympathy; but it is very fatal to them, giving the
rarest opportunity to the second barrel of the sportsman.
The wounded Yellowshanks push their slender shins
through the water with surprising rapidity, make a fair
attempt at swimming, and put their heads under the water
when closely pursued, but do not understand the art of
diving. I learned from the people in the neighborhood that
these birds had occupied this feeding ground continuously
for several weeks, and that they did not remain long after
this. Winteiing in the Southern States and in the West

218 THE LARGE YELLOWSIIANKS.

Indies, and breeding from Nova Scotia northward, it is
merely a passenger through these middle districts, scarcely
seen after the first of May, but returning already in August
or even in July. Stray birds sometimes linger so late in
Massachusetts as to receive the name, Winter Yellow-legs;
and I have known them to be shot on the south shore of Lake
Ontario as late as November 1 9th, when the Old Squaw Ducks
had already arrived; they are not uncommon on the sea-coast,
but being rather fresh-water birds, are more abundant in
the interior. When in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, a few weeks
since, I saw in the collection of Mr. Doan, a taxidermist of
that place, the young of this species in the down, along with
the parent, both having been shot and mounted by that gen-
tleman. He procured them at Chebogue Point, near the
city. They probably breed more or less in the marshes
about Chebogue and Tusket River, in the southwest end of
the Province. Strange to say, the nest of this species has
recently been reported from New Jersey.

Audubon says: "When in Labrador I found these birds
breeding, two or three pairs together, in the delightful
quiet valleys bounded by rugged hills of considerable
height, and watered by limpid brooks. These valleys
exhibit, in June and July, the richest verdure; luxuriant
grasses of various species growing here and there in sep-
arate beds, many yards in extent, while the intervening
spaces, which are comparatively bare, are of that boggy
nature so congenial to the habits of these species. In one
of these pleasing retreats my son found a pair of Telltales
in the month of June, both of which were procured. The
female was found to contain a full-formed ^%^, and some
more of the size of peas. The eggs are four, pyriform, 2.25
long and 1.60 in their greatest breadth, pale greenish-yellow,
marked with blotches of umber and pale purplish-gray."

THE SMALL YELLOWSHANKS. 219

The Large Yellowshanks are said vto breed very
commonly on Anticosti.

About 14 inches long and 25 in extent of wings, bill 2.25
and of dark horn-color; color above, ashy-brown or duskv,
each feather being edged with white and sub-margined
with waves or spots of black; secondaries and tertiaries
edged with alternate spots of white and black; head and
neck streaked with dusky and white; spot in front of the eye,
throat and under parts, white; upper and lower tail-
coverts white, crossed with wavy lines of dusky; the bright
yellow legs and feet, together with its size, well character-
izing the species.

THE SMALL YELLOWSHANKS.

Scarcely more than a miniature of the above is the Small
Yellow-shanks i^Totanus flavipcs). Being less than 11 inches
long and about 20 in extent, it is very perceptibly smaller;
but, except that it is a little darker, it is about the same in
form, color and marking, so that the description of the
former species answers sufficiently for this, and it has about
the same diet, habitat, and habits in general. Audubon
reported it as breeding commonly about Pictou, Nova
Scotia; his friend, Professor MacCuUoch, describes the nest
"as placed among the grass on the edges of the rivers and
large ponds of the interior." According to Dr. Coues,
"the eggs are deposited on the ground, in a little depres-
sion, lined with a few dried leaves or grasses. They are
three or four in number, narrowly and pointedly pyriform,
measuring from 1.58x 1-18- 1.78X 1-15. * * *

The ground is a clear clay-color, sometimes tending more
to buffy or creamy, sometimes rather to light brown. The
marking is bold and heavy, but presents the customary
great diversity, some eggs being very heavily splashed with

>220 THE SMALL YELLOWSHANKS.

blotches, confluent about the larger end, while others have
smaller clean-edged spots all over the surface. The mark-
ings are rich umber-brown, often tending to chocolate,
sometimes almost blackish. The paler shell-markings are
usually numerous and noticeable."

On the following morning, I saw a flock of these Lesser
Yellowshanks scouring the same flooded fields above re-
ferred to. After describing several of their elegant circles,
each keeping his place in the finely-ordered ranks, they
lighted in the shallow water near a thicket. I crept around
into the thicket, and crawling almost on hands and knees
behind a brush-fence, when I supposed myself near enough
for a good shot, and was peering cautiously around in order
to take aim from behind my screen, before I could get my
eye on one of the number I heard the ominous w^histle —
the signal of danger — and away the little creatures were
careering beyond shot-range. I rose and watched the flock
till they were out of sight, studying that whistle which had
been given by the sentinel so well on the alert, and which
they all seemed so to comprehend in an instant. To this
moment I can feel in my eye-balls the quick and simultane-
ous beat of their wings.

Once, at Barnegat Inlet (N. J.), late in August, as I stood
on the piazza of the club-house with some half-dozen others,
a flock of these birds appeared. Some one whistled in
imitation of their note, and at once they turned and flew
directly towards us. By the time they came within shot-
range, some one had brought out a gun, and giving them
two charges, dropped quite a number of them. They are
gentle, winsome little creatures, and well deserve to be held
in favor by all lovers of nature. They are not so common
here as the larger species.

THE RUSTY GRAKLE. 221

THE RUSTY GRAKLE.

On the first day of May, 1880, as I stood on an iron
bridge crossing a sluggish stream of Tonawanda Swamp, I
saw the Rusty Grakles {Scolecophagus ferrugineus) constantly
trooping by in immense numbers. They were moving in a
very leisurely manner, immense detachments constantly
alighting. The large tract of low land, covered with the
alder, the willow and the osier, seemed alive with them.
The sombre wave, thus constantly rolling on, must have
carried hundreds of thousands over this highway in a day.
Occasionally they would alight to feed in the low, wet fields
in the vicinity, making the earth black with their numbers.
Their notes, or what might be called their songs, were
almost deafening — resembling, indeed, the vocal perform-
ances of the Red-wings, but far less musical, being more of
a sharp, metallic clatter, interspersed with loud squealing,
and almost destitute of the liquid, warbling notes so pecul-
iar to that species. On being alarmed, either in the fields
or in the bushes, these Grakles would rise in a dense, black
cloud, and with a rumbling sound like that of distant
thunder. Their flight, which ordinarily is not very high, is
straightforward, with a steady beat of the wings, after the
manner of our Blackbirds in general. To one who has
merely met these birds in their rusty coats, as they visit the
fields in moderate flocks on their way south in October or
perhaps as early as the last of September, or as late as the
first of November, they would scarcely be recognizable on
these gala-days of their northward migration, so almost
completely have they doffed the rust-color; the male being
of an elegant glossy black, with the merest touch here and
there of the rusty fringe; and even the female being of a fine
brown or slaty-black, and having but a moderate garniture
of this distinguishable edging on her nuptial plumage. The

222 THE RUSTY GRAKLE.

Rusty Grakle generally goes northward through this region
early in April, or even in March. Perhaps these have been
detained, or have loitered by the way, and are now advanc-
ing with a somewhat forced march along their swampy
thoroughfare.

Spending the winter in the Southern and even in the
Middle States — in a few cases as far north as the lower
Connecticut Valley — the Rusty Grakle breeds from north-
ern New England, northward through Labrador, westward
to Alaska, and even as far north as 69°; Kansas, Nebraska
and Dakota being its western limit. Like the Red-wing, it
is an inhabitant of the swamp, and of low, wet regions,
its food being insects, berries and small moUusks. The
nests, which are very common in Nova Scotia, where this
bird is called the Black Robin, are generally found in spruce
bushes or larch groves, about wild meadows or in wet
places; so that the memory of my childhood days associates
the vigorous chuck and the metallic vibrations of the song
of this species with these elegant Conifo-ce. Mr. E. A.
Samuels found the nests " on the Magalloway River, in
Maine," placed in "the low alders overhanging the water."
Audubon sometimes found them " among the tall reeds of
the Cat-tails, or Typha, to which they were attached by
interweaving the leaves of the plant with the grasses and
strips of bark of which they were externally composed."

The nest is bulky, firm and deep, composed outwardly of
small sticks, mosses and dried grasses, strongly cemented
together with mud, and well lined with fine, dried grasses.
The eggs, deposited early in May, in Nova Scotia, where I
used to regard five as the usual number, though four are
occasionally found, are about 1.03 x •'^'^ of a pale, grayish-
green, somewhat heavily marked with several shades of
brown and a dull lilac, and scratched with black. As in the

THE YELLOW WARBLER. 223

case of the Red-wings, the marking varies very considerably
in different sets. I have seen the young abroad in Nova
Scotia by the 7th of June.

The Rusty Grakle is a little more than 9.00 long,
and some 14.50 in extent. Male, in spring, glossy black,
some of the feathers, especially underneath, edged with a
rusty-brown; female, slaty or rusty-brown above, rusty and
grayish mixed below, with a pale stripe above the eye.

The young birds are quite brown in their first dress, and
in all stages the species is characterized by the milk-white
iris, noticeable at quite a distance. In the Rocky Moun-
tain and California regions this species is replaced by
Brewer's Blackbird, or the Blue-headed Grakle {Scolecophagus
cyanocephahts)^ a bird of very similar habits. The two species
generally mingle in their southern migration along the in-
terior.

THE YELLOW WARBLER.

In the last week of April or the first week of May, as the
warm currents of a spring atmosphere are wooing into
activity every germ of field and forest, the Yellow Warbler
{Dendrxca cestiva) reaches us in immense numbers. You
may find it in the forest, in thickets and slashings, quite
as numerous in the orchard, and in the shrubbery about
the garden and the front-yard, but most especially does
it love the willows by the brook, with the yellow spray of
which its golden tints are particularly in harmony.

In dress and in song it is equally conspicuous. About
the size of the Chipping Sparrow, some 5 inches long,
greenish-yellow above, and golden-yellow streaked with
red beneath, it is unmistakable to the eye as it moves
among the opening leaves and blossoms. In this locality,
we have no other really yellow bird except the male Gold-
finch, and he is readily distinguished by his black crown,

l>i>4 THE YELLOV/ WARBLER.

wings and tail, and by his unique voice and manners in
general. The song of the Yellow, Blue-eyed Yellow,
Golden, or Summer Warbler — for it is known by all these
common names — may be represented by the syllables, wee-
chee-wee-chee-wee-chee\ or, sweety sweet, sweet, sweetie, uttered in
sprightly, whistling tones.

It is awakening and cheerful, and therefore in delightful
harmony with its time. No mere promise of spring, like
the Phoebe, the Robin, or the Bluebird, the appearance of
the Golden Warbler is synchronous with spring itself, and
inseparably associated with the most genial sunshine and the
fragrance of flowers. The very thought of his melody brings
back the fruit blossoms and the merry play of garden-mak-
ing. Unlike all the rest of the Warblers, that seem to go and
come wholly at the bidding of the sylvan deities, this Blue-
eyed Beauty seeks the society of man as well, and may
confide his nest to the shrubbery about the walls of human
dwellings; aye, he will even be pleased to accept the help of
human hands in building that nest — constructing it with the
materials placed on the clothes-line or on the grass for him.
A nest before me, the building of which was thus aided by
young friends, is wholly of batting, except a little lining of
vegetable down, dried grass and horse-hair, and so looks like
a snow-ball or a bunch of wool. This Warbler's nest may be
found in the woods, the swamp, the orchard, the garden or
the front-yard, and is generally placed in the upright fork of
a bush, often stuck into the spray anywhere, rarely on a hori-
zontal limb. Firmly built of various gray fibrous and downy
materials, it is interlaced and bound together with dried
grasses or fine rootlets, sometimes ornamented like bead-
work with the fallen catkins of the butternut or black
walnut, and is lined with the down of the thistle, the willow,
or the reddish wool-like covering of the unrolling fronds of

THE CATBIRD.

2-2[

various ferns. Thus the nest is grayish outside and silken-
white, or delicate reddish, inside. The walls are thick and
firm, and the lining is as soft and delicate a couch as any
birdling ever pillowed its head upon. The eggs, some four
in number, about .67 X. 50, are generally grayish or greenish-
white, pretty heavily spotted, sometimes blotched with
brown and lilac, and are very variable. Though the nest is
generally built by the last of May, there is but one brood
raised in this locality, and the birds leave us for the south
in September.

As an exception to the whole genus, £>. cestiva has no white
markings in the tail, except that the quills of the outer tail-
feathers are white. The young, being for some time with-
out the red markings beneath, Audubon at first made them a
separate species, which he called "the Children's Warbler."

This bird shows special ingenuity in building out the
Cow-bird's ^^^'g, sometimes making even a three-story nest
for that purpose; although it is not, as was supposed by the
earlier ornithologists, the only bird resorting to this expe-
dient, the Redstart, Phoebe, etc., discovering the same
contrivance. Covering all North America to the arctics,
and even reaching South America in winter, this abundant
species is especially characteristic of our continent.

THE CATBIRD.

On the last day of April, as I paddle my canoe along the
still waters of Tonawanda, I spy a Catbird {Mimus caroli-
nensis) in the bushes near the stream. Only 9 inches long
of a plain dark drab or ash, excepting the black crown and
the bright chestnut.of the under tail-coverts, and keeping low
among the thick shrubbery, this bird is now by no means con-
spicuous.* As it approaches nidification, about the last of May,

* I once saw in the possession of Professor W. E. D. Scott, of Princeton, a Catbird which
was as white as a white rabbit.

15

226 THE CATBIRD.

however, it becomes very sprightly and noisy. With tail well
spread and crown-feathers erect, it hops and flits about the
thickets, the edges of the woods, the swamps and the thick
shrubbery of the garden, the most wide-awake bird in all
these haunts. Upon the slightest alarm, it will mew like
a scared kitten, imitating this feline mammal .so perfectly
that no one would attribute the sound to the throat of a
bird. Again, it startles one with its song, which is very
spirited indeed, and in the sweetest tones, but so hurriedly
uttered that it would seem impossible to catch its full
meaning. Unquestionably this song may contain pretty
distinct imitations of the voices of other birds, but I fail .to
detect that general and well-pronounced capacity of a
Mockingbird so often attributed to it. Why need he repeat
the melodies of his neighbors, his own song, like that of the
Brown Thrush, which it greatly resembles, is sweet enough
of itself. It differs most materially, however, from the song
of the Thrushes proper — birds to which our singer, the
Brown Thrush, and the distinguished Mockingbird, are
so closely related as to be regarded by ornithologists as a
branch of the same family. When the Wood Thrush sings
he seems to breathe out his very soul in a thoughtful
melody. There is a musical idea in every note. He is the
Mozart or Beethoven of his class. He sings because he
cannot help it. He sings to the forest, to the stream, and
to the evening star. The Catbird sings on purpose. There
is no sentiment whatever in his performance. It is wholly
a play upon tones, a trick of the vocal organs; and, as has
been justly said, always implies a listener, always betrays
self-consciousness. The notes of the Wood Thrush inspires
solemnity, and may bring one into a mood for religious
devotion; those of the Catbird awaken risibility, and put
the spirit of fun and mischief into one.

THE CATBIRD. 227

" Some persons do not admire the Catbird on account of
his sombre plumage," says Susan Fenimore Cooper, in her
delicious "Rural Hours," "but the rich shaded grays of
his coat strike us as particularly pleasing, and his form is
elegant. His cry, to be sure, is odd enough for a bird; and
sometimes when he repeats it twenty times in succession in
the course of half an hour, one feels inclined to box his ears.
It is the more provoking in him to insult us in this way,
because some of his notes, when he chooses, are very
musical — soft and liquid — as different as possible from his
harsh, grating cry. Like his cousin, the Mockingbird, he
often deserves a good shaking for his caprices, both belong-
ing to the naughty class of 'birds who can sing, and won't
sing,' except when it suits their fancy."

The nest, placed in a bush or brush-pile, is constructed of
coarse shreds of bark, stalks of weeds, and dried leaves,
occasionally ornamented with one or two rags or feathers,
and lined with rootlets, giving the inside a uniform dark
color, which is quite characteristic. The eggs, commonly 4,
some .95 X. 70, are of a fine, dark bluish-green. A second
brood is sometimes raised.

How bravely the Catbird will attack the black snake, that
arch-enemy of birds' nests on and near the ground, wrig-
gling about vines and bushes after the manner of a more
ancient individual of his kind, almost as much at home in a
tree as on the ground — how our bird will attack him with
bill and claw, and not infrequently compel him to retreat,
has been noted by almost every ornithologist.

In spring and early summer the food of the Catbird is
insectivorous. Larvae in general, and cutworms, as well as
winged insects, constitute the bulk of its fare. Later in the
season it is partial to small fruits, feeding mostly on wild
berries of swamps and thickets. It is therefore the friend

228 THE WATER THRUSH.

and ally of the husbandman, and should never be the sub-
ject of persecution; and especially because of the partiality
it shows for the vicinage of man, being almost entirely con-
fined to the improved and cultivated regions of the country,
and more or less common about our dwellings.

The Middle States are the favorite breeding region of
this bird. Reported as rare in Northern New England, it
breeds commonly in Nova Scotia and on the Red River of the
north, on the Saskatchawan, in the cultivated parts of the
Central Plains, and on the Columbia River. It is resident
in the Southern States, but many pass the winter far
beyond. It leaves the Middle States for the south in Sep-
tember or October.

THE WATER THRUSH.

On this last day of April, I every now and then hear the
spirited notes of the Water Thrush {Seiurus noveboracensis).
I sometimes hear them even a week earlier. I hardly know
whether to call these notes a song or not. They are not at
all like those sylvan melodies, which seem the overflow of
quiet joy from happy natures; but are rather a strong utter-
ance of surprise, as if the bird had made some exciting
discovery — perhaps your own unwelcome presence — and
wished to express some feeling of alarm or disapproval.
Chee-chee-chee-chcc-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo^ beginning with
a somewhat high and loud note, and gradually dropping
down softer and lower, the whole with an increasing rapid-
ity, might represent this vocal performance. As Wilson
and Audubon evidently gave us only the history of that
delightful songster, the Louisiana, or Large-billed Water
Thrush, and subsequent writers have been more or less con-
fused as to the voices of this and our more northern or
common Water Thrush, ornithological readings do not pre-

THE WATER THRUSH.

229

pare us for this so-called song, as above described; and yet
I fail to detect in it any other melody, or any other note,
except that sharp chip., chip., common to its genus.

Having the dress of a Thrush, and the dainty, dove-like
gait as well as the jerking of the tail, so characteristic of
the Titlarks, while the structure is more allied to that of the
Warblers, this species and its congeners — the Louisiana
Water Thrush, and the Golden-crowned Thrush — have
greatly puzzled our ornithologists. After calling them
Thrushes for some time, and then Titlarks or Wagtails,' the
greater importance of structural affinity over and above mere
appearance or analogy has finally placed th?m among the
Warblers — "Terrestrial Warblers," Coues calls them.

The Water Thrush is commonly quite shy, and manages
to keep well out of sight while one is moving around; but
if you will sit down and remain quiet, it will perambulate
about quite freely, and allow you a good view of its trim
form, some 5.50-6.00 inches long, and of a rich olivaceous-
brown coat and cap, and yellowish-white eye-brows and
under parts, the latter thickly spotted in streaks with brown.

Being almost constantly on or near the ground, this so-
called Thrush is a ground-builder; and, true to its name,
keeps in the immediate vicinity of water, generally in the
partially submerged shrubbery of a swamp. Here the nest
may be .found at the root of a tree or stump, or stuck into
the side of a partially decayed and moss-covered log. It is
composed of sticks, dried grasses, moss and fine fibrous
material; and contains four eggs, about .85 x .67, delicate
v^hite, specked with light-red. It may be found in this
locality late in May or early in June. I have found the
young out of the nest by the 19th of June. Habitat, East-
ern North America, up to high latitudes, I found it breeding
in Nova Scotia. Its northwestward trend is to Montana,

230 THE WATER THRUSH.

and even to Alaska; south in winter, into the West Indies,
Central America, and even South America.

The Large-billed Water Thrush {Seiurus ludovicianus)^
though very similar to the above, both in appearance and
in habit, is nevertheless clearly differentiated by its greater
size, larger bill, buffy-white under parts, instead of yellow-
ish-white, its more southern habitat, and its marvelous
powers of song.

CHAPTER XII.

THE THIRD OF MAY.

IT is the 3d of May and we are just in the thickest of the
spring migration of our birds. Considered in all its rela-
tions, this regular movement of the birds is one of the
most wonderful facts in nature. Coming such an immense
distance, many of them from the tropics to the far north,
often one or two thousand miles, how can they time them-
selves so well? No matter what the weather is, or the
character of the season, I know within a few days at most,
in many cases almost within a few hours, when to expect
each species.* Not many hours from the morning of
the 7th of April I may be sure of the pleasing melody
of the Bay-winged Bunting, or Grass Finch; and as soon as
one appears, they become almost numberless. About the
1st of May I may expect the Catbird, the Indigo-bird, the
Redstart, the Black-throated Blue Warbler, and the Yellow
Warbler; and about a week later arrive the Golden-crowned
Warbler, the Rose-breasted Grosbeak, and the Wood Thrush.
This exact time of arrival adds a delightful interest to
the study of ornithology. I wait for the coming of the
birds, especially for my favorite ones, as for the coming of
my friends. As our rugged winter wears away, I count the
weeks and the 'days.

* This is particularly true of the land-birds. Many of the water-birds (but by no means
all of them), especially such as migrate along the water-courses of the interior, may be
governed considerably by the nature of the season.

232 MIGRATION.

The time of arrival^ as also of departure, though so
exact in each case, varies greatly with different species.
The Robin, the Bluebird, the various Blackbirds, the
Phoebe, the Killdeer, the Meadow Lark and the Song
Sparrow arrive before winter is over, and are thus the har-
bingers of spring; but Thrushes, Warblers, Cuckoos, and
the Flycatchers generally, come with the spring flowers and
the tender foliage. ''The Indian of the fur countries, in
forming his rude calendar, names the recurring moons
after the Birds-of -passage, whose arrival is coincident with
their changes."

Those birds which arrive first stay latest, and the latest
visitants are the first to depart. For the most part, the
males are the first on the ground in the spring, while the
females or the young lead the van in the fall; and it is
pretty certain that those individuals spending the summer
farthest north also winter farther north than those of the
same species which do not reach such high latitudes. It
may also be set down as a general law that those species
which spend the summer farthest north also winter farthest
south.

Many kinds of birds, especially such as fly high and
encounter but slight danger, perform their passage in part
or wholly by day; but those passing near the ground, or
experiencing special dangers by the way, almost invariably
move under cover of the night. It is probable that the
divers — such as Loons and Grebes — make their passages
mostly in the water, following the great water-courses;
while certain running birds, as the Rails, achieve a great
part of their journey a-foot.

Our North American birds seem to migrate year after
year in certain lines, toward the north in the spring, and
again toward the south in autumn. For instance, of the

MIGRA TION. 233

immense number of birds wintering in Florida, some regu-
larly follow the more easterly parts, while others, pursuing
a more interior route, trend away to the northwest; so that
a number of observers, forming a line from east to west
across these lines of migration, would each find, year after
year, certain passengers peculiar to his station. The Atlan-
tic Coast and the Mississippi — Father of Waters — would
seem to be the main thoroughfares.* Again, the regular
route in the autumn for some species is not the same as
that of the spring. Some species, and perhaps it may be
said the birds in general, return to the same spot for nidifi-
cation from year to year. The Barn Swallows return to the
old home on the rafter with great demonstrations of joy at
each arrival; the Bluebird and the Martin return regularly to
their tenement; the Bird of Prey seeks out its old eyrie, and
even the song-bird of the forest, which achieves the longest
migration, is known to rebuild near its former site. It is
said that from year to year " the immortal Naumann knew
all his little feathered friends, near his house, by their
songs."

How does each species, or individual, trace its pathway
with such marked regularity and certainty? Whoever
would account for this, by the bird's-eye view of the main
points of landscape w^hich the migrant is supposed to com-
mand from its lofty aerial pathway, must attribute to the
bird a higher reasoning faculty in combining the general
effect of the extended scenery through which it passes than
it could seem to possess; and at the same time fails to find
the route for the vast numbers moving low, or under cover
of the night. Nor do the young always avail themselves of
the more experienced; and unless the bird be endowed with
an intelligence immeasurably above that of man, would it

* A careful study of the facts in the Old World has rendered it certain that great water-
courses, and their adjoining valleys, are the main thoroughfares of migration.

234 MIGRA TION,

not require a great deal of experience to secure so wonder-
ful a result with so much certainty? Here is a mystery
which the most careful study can only enhance. In that
mystery who does not exclaim:

There is a power whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,

The desert and the inimitable air."

The manner of the birds in their passage is in every way
interesting. There is often much ceremony by way of
preparation for the journey. Some go singly or in pairs,
others in families or flocks, these moving communities some-
times being enormous. The Swallows will gather in im-
mense flocks, perching in dense lines on the ridge of the old
barn or along the telegraph wires, and laugh and chatter as
if their formidable journey were to be the merriest ching
possible; the vast assemblages of the several kinds of Black-
birds, generally each kind by itself, will fairly darken the
corn-fields and the meadows; and the Robins will assemble
with a subdued but peculiar hilarity. Generally there is
the greatest possible difference between the spring and the
fall migrations, the former being hurried, jubilant, and full
of song; the latter leisurely, quiet, and comparatively voice-
less.

It is the opinion of some of the best European observers
that the more hurried and joyous the vernal migration, the
earlier and more genial will be the spring, and that loitering
or hesitation betokens the opposite; while the more leisurely
the southward movement, the greater the probability of an
easy winter, and vice versa.

Gregarious species, especially the water-fowl, often move
in the most exact and beautiful order. Who has not
noticed the flight of Wild Geese, Ducks and Plover, in
the form of a V, a straight line, or a graceful curve ? As

MIGRA TION, 235

the leader cleaves the air with a special outlay of strength^
he every now and then drops into the rear in the easier line
of the wake, some other one taking up the task in front.
The European Storks are said to perform, every now and
then, the most beautiful evolutions on their way, after
which they move straight forward as usual. In heavy fogs
or dark nights birds fly low, and that often at their peril.
Not infrequently they lie over during weather especially
unfavorable. All such as take long and high flights prefer
the moonlight and the wind ahead. Wind in the rear is
very unfavorable. Not infrequently birds prefer to travel
under the leadership of the more experienced of their class.

Very noticeable, indeed, is the effect of this regular
migration in any locality. Compute the probable number
of any one species, as the Bay-wingedSparrow, or the Balti-
more Oriole, for instance, contained in every square mile of
their summer habitat, and imagine the immense tidal wave
which, at the exact time for each species, moves along the en-
tire breadth of the line of march. The more brilliant varieties
everywhere appeal to the eye; and, as they reach their sum-
mer residence, each kind of the birds of song makes the air
more resonant with its peculiar melody. How the arrival
of any numerous species modifies the entire phase of a
rural district ! The field and orchard teem with a new and
happy life, and from the forest comes the finest of nature's
melodies.

In Eastern North America, the birds migrate in greater
numbers and over a greater reach of country than in any
other part of the world; therefore, I am especially led to
inquire how this wonderful thing is accomplished. What
strange and mighty impulse is this which, inspiring the
breasts of such countless multitudes at the same moment,
carries them on through bitter storms and numberless perils

236 MIGRA TION.

to such immense distances ? Even those species of migratory
birds which have been confined for many months, and seem
perfectly tame, dash violently against the sides of their cage,
and the tamed Canada Goose becomes wild again at the
call of his species in their northward flight, and abandon-
ing all his new relationships, rises to join fhem.

Mr. A. R. Wallace, in his great work on the Geographical
Distribution of Animals, states what he conceives to be the
natural causes for this wonderful phenomenon.

He suggests " that the instinct of migration has arisen
from the habit of wandering in search of food common to
all animals, but is greatly exaggerated in the case of birds
by their power of flight and by the necessity for procur-
ing a large amount of soft insect-food for their unfledged
young." This might explain certain more or less irregular
movements of birds, which are termed partial migrations,
but is by no means sufficient to account for all the wonder-
ful facts of j-egiilar migration. As a matter of fact, insect-
life becomes much more abundant as we approach the
warmer regions of the globe, the larvae of most kinds of
insects appearing at different times throughout the season;
hence we are not surprised to find large numbers of birds,
of about every order, breeding and residing permanently in
the more southern parts of our continent. Moreover, not a
few species breed almost indifferently in any part of East-
ern North America, to quite high latitudes, nesting at an
earlier or later period of the entire breeding season, in
accordance with their more northern or more southern
location. Since nature yields so readily to ordinary causes,
might not the birds generally find it more convenient to
adjust the time of their nidification to that period of the
year when insect larvae abound in the more southern lati-
tudes, than to travel such immense distances, encountering

MIGRATION. 237

wind and storm, and perils innumerable? The perils which
birds encounter in their migrations are inconceivable to those
unacquainted with the facts. Overcome by adverse winds
and storms of great severity, immense numbers become
exhausted and perish, as is shown by the numbers of the
small land-birds drifting on to the shores of the Great
Lakes after very severe storms. Attracted and dazed by
the light-houses stationed here and there, so many dash
their lives out against them as to render these points of
incalculable interest to the observer. The continuous net-
work of telegraph wires spread over the country maims
and destroys countless numbers. After heavy storms,
during their migrations, hundreds of Ducks have been
picked up dead on a single morning on Niagara River,
below the Falls, they having flown into the great cataract
and perished.

Again, the same author says: "If we go back only as
far as the height of the glacial epoch, there is reason to
believe that all North America, as far south as about 40^^
north latitude, was covered with an almost continuous and
perennial ice-sheet. At this time the migratory birds would
extend up to this barrier (which would probably terminate
in the midst of luxuriant vegetation, just as the glaciers of
Switzerland now often terminate amid forests and corn-
fields), and as the cold decreased and the ice retired almost
imperceptibly year by year, would follow it up farther and
farther, according as the peculiarities of vegetation and
insect-food were more or less suited to their several consti-
tutions." The only possible interpretation of this passage
would seem to be that the birds, being held in the south by
the glacial epoch, followed up the recession of the cold at
the closing of that period, and ever since have kept up the
same movement in annual accommodation to cold and ice^

238 MIGRA TION.

simply to find suitable food. The question naturally arises,
since all varieties of bird-food abound in the south, why
should a berry, a grain, a seed, or a caterpillar, be so much
more palatable in the north ? Nor are our regular migrants
generally driven back from the north by hunger and cold.
Nearly all our migratory birds leave for the south either
during the fine and fruitful days of late summer, or in the
most brilliant and balmy days of autumn, when they are
w^ell covered with an extra coat of fat, and give forth a
pleasing repetition of the gladsome lays of spring; and in
most cases they evidently go much further than is neces-
sary to find food and mild weather. In the gala-days of
spring when most birds make their passage, the weather
and resources of food are such that the whole journey is
one continuous festivity.

Mr. Wallace admits that " the most striking fact in favor
of the 'instinct' of migration is the 'agitation,' or excite-
ment, of confined birds at the time when their wild com-
panions are migrating," but thinks this " a social excitement
due to the anxious cries of the migrating birds." No doubt
the tame bird may be affected by the cry of its fellow, but
those not within the reach of such cry, nor even within
sight of their passing relatives, seem equally excited in the
time of regular migration, spending the whole night in use-
less efforts to free themselves. Moreover, how came these
birds in confinement, these life-long prisoners shut out from
the society of their kind, to recognize each the call of its
fellows, and to comprehend its meaning? Again, the same
writer says: "We must remember, too, that migration, at
the proper time, is in many cases absolutely essential to the
existence of the species; and it is therefore not improbable
that some strong, social emotion should have been gradu-
ally developed in the race, by the circumstance that all

MIGRA TION. 239

who for want of such emotion did not join their fellows
inevitably perished." As to the first clause of this state-
ment, we know that birds occasionally nest very far from
their ordinary breeding habitat, and for aught we can see
they might always do so; and as to the second clause, the
query naturally arises, how came the sad fate of the few
delinquents that "inevitably perished " on failing to migrate
to become so generally known and so deeply affecting ? It
is marvelous what an amount of loose speculation may
pass for science ! No; neither the wisdom of the birds, nor
the force of circumstances, however stern, can account for
the wonderful phenomena connected with the regular mi-
gration of birds. It would seem that this, like so many
other persistent habits in animated nature, must be caused
by the laws of instinct, superintended by an Infinite Intelli-
gence. Nor should we be stumbled because we, in the close
limitations of our finiteness, cannot conceive how the Infinite
and Omnipresent can touch these innumerable springs of
activity in animated nature. With proper evidence, there
should be room for faith.

One very naturally sympathizes with Audubon in his
reflections on the bleak coasts of Labrador. "That the
Creator should have ordered that millions of diminutive,
tender creatures should cross spaces of country, in all
appearance a thousand times more congenial for all their
purposes, to reach this poor, desolate and deserted land, to
people it, as it were, for a time, and to cause it to be enli-
vened with the songs of the sweetest of the feathered musi-
cians, for only two months, at most, and then, by the same
extraordinary instinct, should cause them all to suddenly
abandon the country, is as wonderful as it is beautiful and
grand."

240

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE.

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE.

O, these days of life and song ! they are but too short
and fleeting ! I go into my study, in the early morning,
and sit by the open window which overlooks the village

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE,

nestling among the trees. What a delicious fragrance floats
on the breeze! What can be more suggestive of Paradise
than this delightful chorus of birds, and this budding and
blooming of spring?

Ah! my old favorite, the Baltimore Oriole {Icterus balti-
more), has arrived during the night. I hear his loud, sweet
whistle in the large elm just across the way. Now he has
passed directly before the window, and lit in full view in
the orchard. He is well worthy of the epithet '' Golden " in
his old familiar name, Golden Robin, only he is no Robin at
all; and if Lord Baltimore, for whom he is named, could have
equaled his brilliancy in the colors of his coat-of-arms, he was
a gay fellow to lead a persecuted people into the wilderness.
Most appropriate of all, I think, is this bird's Indian name,
" Fire-bird." Appearing to the best advantage as he flies
from you, does not that rump of bright orange, surrounded
by the jet-black of his head, shoulders, wings and tail, glow
like a burning coal? And, as he spreads his tail in lightings

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE. 241

are not those light-orange outer feathers of the same about
to burst into a flame? The brightest orange, however, is on
the breast, becoming lighter on the sides and under parts;
and in the brightest specimens, even the white of the wing-
coverts is tinged with the same. His female, who may
arrive in a day or two, or may linger behind more than a
week, has but a general resemblance, being much duller in
color and marking.

Hero, hero, hero: Cheery, cheery, cheery: Cheer-up, cheer-up,
cheer-up: are among his common notes, generally coming
from among the swaying branches of the taller trees; but
sometimes also from the bushes, and even from the fence.
Occasionally, only, is he seen on the ground, and then he
appears as much out of place as a gentleman in broadcloth
and kid-gloves digging a ditch, or guiding a plow. On
some minds the effect of the song of birds is very great.
The most sprightly cheerfulness is particularly emphasized
in the song of the Baltimore. How I have been cheered by
it, in certain days dark with sorrow, I cannot easily forget.
Hence his first note awakens a throng of tender reminis-
cences, and his return is always an event of the season.
And yet that song has but little compass or variety. Its
effect is wholly in the tones. The notes are almost monoto-
nous, unless, indeed, he has learned to imitate the note or
song of some bird by the way, one which never reaches us,
and so leaves the acquired song a mystery to us; a peculiar
attainment of the Baltimore, in which his voice may become
quite flexible. Unquestionably he has quite a faculty for
imitation. Besides his song he has a spirited twitter, or
rattle, v/hen in combat, and when winning the female.
He has also a single note, corresponding to the com-
mon chipping of birds when alarmed about their nest or
young. But all his noise will soon be over. Incubation
16

242 THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE.

once begun, he is one of the quietest of birds and remains
so till after the moult, during which event he is rarely to
be seen; then returning to the vicinity of the late nesting
place in the orchard or grove, he will be almost as gay, and
sprightly, and musical, in the midst of his full-grown family,
now making ready to depart for some more genial clime, as
he was in the hilarious days of the nuptial season.

A very "castle in the air" is the Baltimore's pensile nest,
as it sways and rocks on an elastic branch of some tree, in
the front-yard, the orchard, the grove or the forest. In this
locality a partiality is shown for the graceful drooping
branches of the elm. Wherever placed, it seldom fails to be
under a canopy of leaves. Generally in the form of a bag
some six or seven inches deep, round at the bottom, and
hung to slender fork-shaped limbs by the edges, the limbs
thus serving to hold it open, it is the most noticeable bird's
nest in field or forest. The material is almost anything in
the form of long strips or threads that can be easily woven —
thin, gray, vegetable fibers, yarn, twine, interlaced in every
possible manner, and well sewed together with horse-hair.
The walls are so thin and open as to let the air through
readily. The bottom is a thick cushion of vegetable down
and hair. A gentleman in Pennsylvania once hung out
bright and various colored zephyrs, which the bird wove into
a most brilliant and fantastic fabric. Says Wilson: "So
solicitous is the Baltimore to procure proper materials for
his nest that, in the season of building, the women in the
country are under necessity of narrowly watching their
thread that may chance to be out bleaching, and the farmer
to secure his young grafts; as the Baltimore, finding the
iormer, and the strings which tie the latter, so well adapted
for his purpose, frequently carries off both; or should the
one be too heavy, and the other too firmly tied, he will tug

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE. 243

at them a considerable time before he gives up the attempt.
Skeins of silk and hanks of thread have been often found,
after the leaves were fallen, hanging around the Baltimore's
nest; but so woven up and entangled as to be entirely
irreclaimable. Before the introduction of Europeans, no
such material could have been obtained here; but, with the
sagacity of a good architect, he has improved this circum-
stance to his advantage; and the strongest and best mate-
rials are uniformly found in those parts by which the whole
is supported."

Great sagacity and skill are shown in adapting the form
of the nest to circumstances. Audubon observes that the
walls of the nest are thinner, or thicker, and that it is placed
on the warmer, or cooler, side of the tree, according as the
location is northern or southern. Two nests, lately found
by Mr. Eugene Ringueberg, of Lockport, N. Y., are very
suggestive as to the intelligence of the bird. One was
hung on the string of a kite caught in an apple-tree. Closed
at the top in the form of a cone, its opening, high on one
side, was a sort of projecting porch of closely woven horse-
hair, which, as the nest could turn in any direction, served
as the tail of a weather-cock, and turning constantly to the
leeward side, kept the entrance from the storm. The other,
being built on two slender twigs, was too poorly supported
for the weight of the bird. In this emergency, a strong
piece of twine was woven into one side, carried up over
two firm branches, and well fastened into the other side,
thus making the nest fully secure. Here was no mean
exercise of the reasoning faculty. Those who study the
animal kingdom most will have the highest opinion of its
intelligence.

The eggs, generally four or five in a set, some ".90 X -60"
of an inch, are white, slightly tinged with brown, and

244 THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE.

Sparsely but irregularly scratched in every direction, as if
with a pen, in both light and heavy strokes with black or dark
brown; some of these marks being obscure, as if partially
washed off. As generally with birds of its size, incubation
occupies some two weeks. The young resemble the female,
but Audubon thinks that the young males acquire their
bright colors the first year.

The Baltimore Oriole is a great devourer of insects; but
like other birds of that kind of diet, he will occasionally
affect a change. Once, after a spring shower, when the
peach-trees were in bloom, a beautiful male lit in one just
against a window. All unconscious of my presence, though
I was scarcely more than two feet from him, he began mov-
ing up and down the limbs in that gliding, athletic manner
peculiar to himself, ever and anon inserting his bill into the
cup-like calyx of the blossoms. Could he be drinking the
new-fallen rain-drops? Scarcely; for he did not raise his
head to swallow. Looking a little more closely, I saw that
he was eating the stamens. Let not the fruit-grower
be alarmed, however, for nature has provided many
more blossoms than is necessary for a good crop. It may
be that the Baltimore is simply thinning them to advan-
tage.

With us, as in many other parts of our country, this is one
of the most numerous and well-known of all the birds;
while his brilliancy, his loud and happy notes, and his
abundant appearance in shade trees, orchards, fields, forests,
and even in the heart of our great cities at the same time,
fully make known the morning of his arrival. Wintering
in Mexico, Central America, Cuba, etc., he breeds nearly
throughout the Eastern United States, and, becoming rare
in Northern New England, barely extends into the British
Provinces. He belongs, therefore, to the Alleghanian Fauna.

7HE ORCHARD ORIOLE. 245

THE ORCHARD ORIOLE.

Very similar in form and marking, but of a different
color and smaller, is the Orchard Oriole {Icterus spwius).
Some seven inches long, and having nearly the same parts
black as the Baltimore, except that the tail is entirely black,
the male has those parts corresponding to the orange in the
latter — chestnut, or chestnut-red. The female is olivaceous
above, with dusky wings, and greenish-yellow beneath.
The young male is like her the first year, the second year he
acquires a black throat, the third year is variously spotted,
and afterwards acquires the dark colors of maturity. Resid-
ing in Orleans County, N. Y., I am a little too far north for
this bird, but in Northern Ohio, where I formerly studied
him, he is very common, being found in every orchard.
Arriving there about the middle of May, his song is a loud
and delightful warble, bearing a striking resemblance to
that of the Robin or Rose-breasted Grosbeak. The female
is so shy as seldom to be seen. The nest, hung by the
upper edge to a limb in the orchard, is nearly hemispherical,
built of tough grasses thoroughly interwoven. Wilson says:
^' I had the curiosity to detach one of the fibers, or stalks of
dried grass, from the nest, and found it to measure thirteen
inches in length, and in that distance was thirty-four times
hooked through and returned, winding round and round
the nest." He says, also: "An old lady of my acquaint-
ance, to whom I was one day showing this curious fabrica-
tion, after admiring its texture for some time asked me, in a
tone between joke and earnest, whether I did not think it
possible to teach these birds to darn stockings." This nest,
being built of grasses so recently dried as still to retain
their green color, about like that of new-mown hay, has a
peculiarly fresh and clean appearance.

The Orioles proper are altogether birds of the Old

246 THE WARBLING VIREO.

World, and are allied to the Thrushes. " More than twenty
species are described in Africa, Asia, and the Indian archi-
pelago." One species, the Golden Oriole, migrates into
Southern Europe, and occasionally reaches Great Britain
and Sweden. They all build very ingenious nests. Our
Orioles, of a wholly different type, and peculiar to the
New World, especially to Central and South America, are
closely related to the numerous Blackbirds of our country
all of which are ranked among the Starlings.

THE WARBLING VIREO.

From a group of tall maples in a neighboring yard, there
comes one of the most delightful warbles ever heard in this
locality — that of the Warbling Vireo i^Vireo gilvus). In a
series of liquid notes, very fluent and greatly prolonged
for the size of the bird, in a smoothly undulating melody,
delivered while the bird flits and gleans among the foliage,
and in tones so sweet that it would seem as if the air
melted in them, the very soul of tenderness and affection is
breathed out upon the ear. In one of our rural burying-
grounds, not long since, while a casket with the remains of
a little child was being lowered into the grave, there mingled
with the sobs of heart-broken mourners the inimitably ten-
der warble of this bird from a tree-top just above. Never
did the melody of bird or man seem more appropriate. It
was at once the voice of sympathy and hope in the very
presence of death.

This inimitable melody, like that of some celestial flute
or flageolet, never out of time, and never failing to charm,
may be heard in our middle districts from the first days of
May till the last of September.

Though common to orchards and shaded front-yards,
even in villages and cities, the Warbling Vireo is much

THE WARBLING VIREO. 247

oftener heard than seen. Nearly the size of a canary, 5.50
long and 9.00 in extent, olivaceous-green above and yel-
lowish-white beneath, it so nearly resembles the leaves
as it glides softly and gracefully through the tree-tops
that one must look sharply to detect it. But it is so
utterly absent-minded as it flits and peers among the
branches, meanwhile abandoning itself to its song, that one
may come almost as near to it as one pleases. Though,
like the rest of the Vireos, it takes its food and moves about
like a Warbler, the bill, hooked and notched, broad at base
and well bristled, reminded the older ornithologists of the
Flycatchers, while its general structure now brings this
family near the Shrikes — a group of birds of altogether
different habits of voice, food and nidification. The family
Vireonidce is entirely of the New World, and the genus Vtreo,
to which this warbling species belongs, is almost exclusively
of North America, while the species itself pertains to the
eastern parts. As in the case of the Vireos in general, male
and female are alike. Like all the rest of its genus, it hangs
by its edge a delicate pensile nest on the elastic twigs of
some bush or tree; in the case of gilvus^ almost always
high up in the tree; the eggs, some .80X.55, being of a
most delicate or flesh-tinted white, barely specked with dark-
brown or black, are among the most beautiful of birds' eggs.

The nests and eggs of the Vireos can never be mistaken,
so wholly different are they from the nests and eggs of all
other birds. Never shall I forget the tender sense of the
beautiful which stole over me in the days of childhood, as
I first beheld a nest of this bird. A very fairy-like basket
of jewels it seemed.

A warbling Vireo's nest, now before me, is hung on very
small twigs at their junction with a larger upright twig,
and is slightly fastened around the latter. It is woven of

248 THE WARBLING VIREO.

woody fibers, some dried grass and shreds of bark, inter-
mixed with bits of wasp-nest, vegetable down, and the
white, fine-spun substance of certain cocoons. It is lined
with fine shreds of the grape-vine. Another nest, suspended
in the ordinary way, is similarly made up, but very shallow,
not more than 1^ inch in depth outside.

Though the summer habitat of Vireo gilvus is given as far
west as the High Central Plains, I do not think it extends
very far north of Lake Ontario. I did not meet with it on
Georgian Bay nor in Nova Scotia.' Mr. Chamberlain does
not report it from New Brunswick, and Mr. Everett Smith
regards it as rare in Eastern Maine. It is probably a bird
of the Alleghanian Fauna.

The Brotherly-love, or Philadelphia Vireo, probably a
closely-allied species to the Warbling, is also found occa-
sionally in this locality. It is quite a little shorter than the
latter, perhaps half an inch, and the colors are brighter —
the olivaceous having more of green, and the white having
more of yellow — the breast, for instance, being in some
cases quite yellow. When first studying birds, the eye
being not yet trained to the exact observance of form and
color, I noticed the difference at once on procuring the
Philadelphia. Like other Vireos, its nest and eggs are
probably in close conformity to the general type. It is not
uncommon in New England, nor in New Brunswick, while
it is said to be abundant every spring, and quite common
on the Red River of the north.

Mr. Wm. Brewster found this species common about
Umbagog Lake in the breeding season. He says: " Con-
trary to what might be expected from the apparently close
relationship of the two birds, the song of this species does
not in the least resemble that of Vireo gilvus. It is, on the
other hand, so nearly identical with that of V. olivaceus that

THE WARBLING VIREO. 249

the most critical ear will, in many cases, find great difficulty
in distinguishing between the two. The notes oi philadelphicus
are generally pitched a little higher in the scale, while many
of the utterances are feebler, and the whole strain is a trifle
more disconnected. But these differences are of a very
subtle character, and, like most comparative ones, they are
not to be depended upon unless the two species can be heard
together. The Philadelphia Vireo has, however, one note
which seems to be peculiarly its own, a very abrupt, double-
syllabled utterance, with a rising inflection, which comes in
with the general song at irregular but not infrequent inter-
vals."

Similarity of appearance to the Vireos generally, and
close resemblance in vocal habit to the Red-eyed Vireo,
have no doubt caused the species under review hitherto to
elude notice. Now that the points of discrimination have
been so well brought out by Mr. Brewster, it may, perhaps,
be found generally and commonly distributed in Eastern
North America.

In the deep forests, or possibly in some thickly-shaded
yard, already in the latter part of April, I may meet the
Yellow-throated Vireo {Vireo flavifrons). Well nigh six
inches long, yellowish-green above, wings and tail deep
dusky, the feathers edged with white or yellowish, wing-
bars white; throat, breast and eye-lids bright yellow, the
remaining under parts white, it is the brightest of its genus.
It keeps well up in the tops of the trees, diligently glean-
ing as it sings, vireo^ vire-ee^ wee-j-ee^ etc., in tones rather
shrill for a Vireo, and not nearly so finely modulated and
fluent as those of its relative, the Red-eye, but greatly
resembling them. Breeding "from Maryland and Virginia
northward" (Coues), its nest, some 5 to 15 feet from the
ground, is not uncommon in this locality.

250 THE RED-EYED VIREO.

One now before me is similar to that of the Red-eye. The
walls, however, are thicker, the nest deeper, and hence more
bulky; also more fully ornamented on the entire outside
with a white material — capsules of spiders' nests or cover-
ings of some kind of chrysalid — and around the bottom with
bits of rotten wood, very porous and almost white, prob-
ably bass-wood; the whole having a whitish or yellowish-
gray and highly artistic appearance. Another, found June
20th, is not any larger than the Red-eye's, but the outside
is ornamented with skeleton leaves, fine vegetable fibers,
down, capsules of spiders' nests, etc. The eggs, some .75
or .80X-55 or .60, therefore rather longish and pointed, are
pure white, with a few spots or mere specks of dark brown
or black on the large end.

THE RED-EYED VIREO.

Certainly in a few days I shall meet in great abundance
throughout the forest the Red-eyed Vireo {Vireo olivaceus).
Fully six inches long, it appears larger than most of its
genus, and while it has the general colors of the Vireos or
Greenlets, olive-green above and white or whitish beneath,
its ashy crown flanked with a narrow line of black, and its
white line over the eye, differentiate it alike from the
Warbling and from the Philadelphia Vireo. Keeping, for
the most part, in the upper regions of the thick foliage, it
almost constantly enlivens the woods with its soft flowing
warble; its tones, though "cheerful and happy as the merry
whistle of a school-boy," being yet so much softer and
sweeter than the Yellow-throats, as to be readily distin-
guishable. Its melody, rendered in a spontaneous, absent-
minded manner, seems simply a cheerful accompani-
ment to business, something thrown in by the way. I
know of no bird in our forest which sings so constantly

THE RED-EYED VIREO. 251

from early morning through the burning heat of noon,
and on into the sombre shadows of the coming night,
aye throughout the season from May to September,
as this unpretending little summer resident. To quote
Mr. Burroughs, "Rain or shine, before noon or after,
in the deep forest or in the village grove — when it is too
hot for the Thrushes or too cold and wdndy for the War-
blers — it is never out of time or place for this little minstrel
to indulge his cheerful strain." This song is in mellow,
whistling tones, varied with rising and falling inflections,
and may be represented by the syllables, virio-virio-viriee-
viria-viree, etc., suggesting the origin of the bird's name.
Some one has made it especially articulate in the following
lines:

" Pretty green worm, where are you ?

Dusky-winged moth, how fare you,

When wind and rain are in the trees ?
Cheeryo, cheerebly, chee,

Shadow and sunshine are one to me.

" Mosquito and gnat, beware you.
Saucy chipmunk, how dare you
Climb to my nest in the maple-tree ?

And dig up the corn

At noon and at morn ?

Cheereyo, cheerebly, chee."

Its small cup-shaped, pensile nest, hung to the twigs of a
bush or tree, late in May or early in June, an3'where from
several to twenty feet from the ground, located in any part
of the forest, but seldom elsewhere, is, perhaps, not equal
as a work of art to that of some other Vireos. It is com-
posed, outside, of shreds of thin fibrous bark, of a light
color, and ornamented with vegetable down, the silk of
cocoons, bits of wasps' nests, etc.; inside, of a few fine rootlets.

252 THE RED-EYED VIREO.

but mostly of something like fine shreds of bark from the
wild grape-vine. The eggs, three or four, measuring some
.82X.62, of a pure glossy-white, are generally barely
specked on the larger end with dark brown, sometimes also
sparingly blotched with dull red. All the Vireo's eggs are
more or less pointed.

Never shall I forget a beautiful evening on the 18th of
May, when I was most highly entertained by a female Red-
eye building her nest. It was after one of those genial
spring days, when all the latent forces of nature are wooed
into activity. Strolling through the woods near sunset, I
sat upon a large stump, where a lately fallen tree had left
quite an opening, letting in the sunlight with a most grateful
effect. Here I listened to a host of birds all around me.
About fifteen feet up in a smallish beech, I noticed a silent
Red-eye, looking very anxious and busy. Presently I saw
a few feet from her the merest outline of a nest — a little
gossamer bag hung to the twigs. In a moment she lit upon
it and began to work. I could see the motion of the
weaver, but not a thread of the material, it was so very
fine. Reaching around the fabric, even underneath it, she
would seem to catch some loose thread, and drawing it over
the side and edge, fasten it inside. Working thus a few
moments, all around inside and outside of the nest, she
would fly away, soon returning to repeat the same opera-
tion. Though so near, I could scarcely discern a particle of
the material she brought, and yet the nest grew rapidly.
Wonderful little workman! Where did she learn her art ?

Wintering partly in Florida, but mostly in tropical America,
and extending their summer range throughout the Eastern
United States, the British Provinces, and the Northwest,
the Red-eyed Vireos are among the most abundant and
characteristic birds of Eastern North America.

THE SOLITARY VIREO. 253

THE SOLITARY VIREO.

I also find the Solitary Vireo ( Virco solitarius) here as a
rare migrant in May. Some 5.00 inches long; head ashy;
back, greenish-olive; ring around the eye, stripe thence to
the nostrils; wing-bars, outer edges of the dusky wing and
tail-feathers and under parts, white; sides tinged with yel-
low — this Vireo is readily distinguished from the rest, espe-
cially by its larger head of plumbeous-blue and the white
markings about the eye. As this bird has been found
breeding near Boston, it would seem that it might breed
here; but I know of no one who has found its nest. Its
nidification seems to be principally in Northern New Eng-
land and northward. Nuttall, that masterly interpreter of
bird-music, says: "Its song seems to be intermediate be-
tween that of the Red-eyed and the Yellow-breasted species,
having the preai, preai, etc., of the latter, and the fine
variety of the former in its tones." Minot says "the music
of the Solitary Vireo is delicious." Burroughs speaks of a
note of the female as suggesting " the bleating of a tiny
lambkin." Mr. J. E. Wagner, an amateur ornithologist of
good abilities for observation, in Nova Scotia, says that the
song of the male is sometimes very much like certain of the
finer strains of the Catbird, and that he is a most constant
and spirited singer.

The nest, in material, structure and position, is very
similar to that of other Vireos. The eggs average ".77 X.
.58 " of an inch, and are pure white, with a very few minute
and generally reddish-brown spots, principally at the larger
end." A most elegant nest, just sent me by Mr. Wagner
from Nova Scotia, the head and wing of the female accom-
panying it, is very similar to that of the Red-eye. It was
hung about eight feet from the ground, in the forked limb
of a fir bush, is made of usftea^ and fine shreds of the thinnest

254 THE WHITE-EYED VIREO.

bark of the white birch, being lined with fine dried grasses.
The four eggs, fresh the 7th of June, about .78 x .56 — as
long and pointed as an}^ Vireo's ^^<g — are pure white,
sparsely specked with reddish-brown, mostly at the large
end — the specks looking as if they had been put on when
the shell was soft, and so had run a little.

Keeping to the forest, and exceedingly solitary and retiring
in its habits, this bird ranges nearly throughout North
America, and winters in the more tropical regions. Mr.
Wagner reports the species as breeding very common in
New Canada, Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia, the female
adhering most persistently to her nest, and defending it
very bravely on leaving it.

THE WHITE-EYED VIREO.

The White-eyed Vireo {Vireo noveborace?isis), "noted for
its sprightly manners and emphatic voice," is but seldom
found here. Mr. Ringueberg, of Lockport, has found it
breeding near that city. The nest, now before me, is almost
precisely like that of the Red-eye; built externally with
fibers of bark, interlaced with webby material, lined with
something brown, which appears to me to be the finest shreds
of the bark of the wild grape-vine. The nest has one pecul-
iar mark, however. It is well ornamented with bits of
newspaper, in addition to the dried leaves, bits of wasps'
nests, and "paper-like capsules of the spiders' nests," so
common to the nests of the Vireo; and thus the bird main-
tains its right to the name of Politician, given it by Wilson.
This nest w^as in a bush in a small thicket. The single t.^'g
it contained was very similar to the ^g'g of the Red-eye, but
smaller, and the fine specks on the pure white ground, black
or nearly so.

The bird is 5 inches long; olive-green above, the wings

THE WHITE-EYED VIREO. 255

and tail being dusky, with feathers edged with greenish;
throat light-ash; sides of the head, breast, and flanks bright
yellow; thus having more yellow than any other Vireo except
the Yellow-throat; wing-bars yellowish-white; vent white; iris
white. On the whole, this is rather a southern bird, and
barely reaches Western New York and Southern New
England. Partial to thickets, especially about swamps, it is
local in its distribution, and may be associated with the
smilax or green-briar. The vocal habits of this bird are
wholly different from those of the rest of the Vireos. Mr.
Burroughs says: "The song of this bird is not particularly
sweet and soft; on the contrary, it is a little hard and shrill,
like that of the Indigo-bird or Oriole; but for brightness,
volubility, execution, and power of imitation, he is unsur-
passed by any of our northern birds. His ordinary note is
forcible and emphatic, but, as stated, not especially musical;
chick-a-rer-chick, he seems to say, hiding himself in the low,
dense undergrowth, and eluding your most vigilant search,
as if playing some part in a game. But in July or August,
if you are on good terms with the sylvan deities, you may
listen to a far more rare and artistic performance. Your
first impression will be that that cluster of azaleas, or that
clump of swamp-huckleberry, conceals three or four differ-
ent songsters, each vying with the others to lead the chorus.
Such a medley of notes, snatched from half the songsters of
the field and forest, and uttered with the utmost clearness
and rapidity, I am sure you cannot hear short of the
haunts of the genuine Mockingbird. If not fully and accu-
rately repeated, there are at least suggested the notes of the
Robin, Wren, Catbird, High-hole, Goldfinch and Song-
sparrow. The pip, pip of the last is produced so accurately
that I verily believe it would deceive the bird herself; and
the whole uttered in such rapid succession that it seems as

256 THE WHITE-EYED VIREO.

if the movement that gives the concluding notes of one
strain must form the first note of the next. The effect is
very rich, and, to my ear, entirely unique. The performer
is very careful not to reveal himself in the meantime; yet
there is a conscious air about the strain that impresses me
with the idea that my presence is understood and my
attention courted. A tone of pride and glee, and, occasion-
ally, of bantering jocoseness, is discernible. I believe it is
only rarely, and when he is sure of his audience, that he dis-
plays his parts in this manner."

" Next after the Warblers, the Greenlets (Vireos) are the
most delightful of our forest birds, though their charms
address the ear, and not the eye. Clad in simple tints that
harmonize with the verdure, these gentle songsters warble
their lays unseen, while the foliage itself seems stirred to
music. In the quaint and curious ditty of the White-eye —
in the earnest voluble strains of the Red-eye — in the tender
secret that the Warbling Vireo confides in whispers to
the passing breeze — he is insensible who does not
hear the echo of thoughts he never clothes in words."
(Coues).

The strictness with which this group of birds is defined
as a family, alike in size, structure, color, and habits, is cer-
tainly matter for reflection. For instance, how comes each
Vireo to build that neat, cup-shaped, pensile nest, so peculiar
to the family, and so unlike that of any other bird? Why is
a Vireo's ^^^ so unique? or, why should it be fashioned
almost as from the same mould, and colored as if by the
same brush? Comes all this by chance? Is it simply a
self-evolved fact? Is it not rather a bit of that great
and exact system of nature, which implies the working
out of a perfect plan, after the design of an Infinite Intelli-
gence?

THE BROWN THRUSH. 257

THE BROWN THRUSH.

As I Stroll along the edge of the woods during the fore-
noon, I am greeted by a clear, voluble song, quite varied,
and very musical, having an overflowing spontaneity, al-
together peculiar. The singer is the Brown Thrush {Harp-
orhynchus riifus). Bearing a decided resemblance in song to
its near relative, the Catbird, it has nothing whatever of the
marvelous mimicry of its other near relative, the Mocking-
bird, all of them being related to the Thrushes proper.
The spirited and very rapid warble of this so-called Thrush
is exceedingly animating, and is susceptible of a great
variety of interpretations. To Thoreau, while planting his
beans, it seemed to say: "Drop it, drop it — cover it up,
cover it up — pull it up, pull it up, pull it up;" Audubon
compared it to "the careful lullaby of some blessed mother
chanting her babe to repose;" while Wilson was led to say,
"we listen to its notes with a kind of devotional ecstasy,
as a morning hymn to the great and most adorable Creator
of all." It has a novel and most pleasing sweetness to me,
as this bird is but a rare resident in this part of the coun-
try. A nest before me, found near Lockport, corresponds
well with the description given by Wilson and other au-
thors — quite flat, made outside of sticks and coarse stalks of
herbs, then dry leaves, and inside, of rootlets, contains four
or five bluish-tinted eggs, 1.05 X .78, well specked all over
with reddish-browm and pale lilac. It is placed in a bush,
sometimes in a tree or hedge, occasionally on the ground,
never far from it, in a thicket or bushy pasture along or near
the woods, such being the chosen places of its residence.
In some parts of the west, where it keeps to the narrow
strips of wood which skirt the streams of the prairies, and
which are frequently quite deeply overflowed in summer,
17

258 THE BROWN THRUSH.

the nests are placed quite a distance from the ground, and
always above the highest mark of the flood.

When the nest of this species is approached, especially if
the young are hatched, the parents become greatly excited,
uttering a strong, metallic chip, which is alike noticeable
and characteristic.

Some 11.25 long and 13.30 in extent, the entire upper
parts reddish-brown, the lower parts, except the throat,
creamy-white, spotted and streaked with brown or black,
thus showing a relation to the Thrushes — it is especially
noticeable by means of its long tail, which it drops and
partly spreads as, with head and somewhat long bill thrown
forward, it perches and sings in full view.

Audubon's fine picture of a scene he witnessed — a group of
Brown Thrushes driving the black snake from a nest as he
twines around its support, jostling out the eggs and squeezing
the life out of the mother-bird — represents the neighborly
spirit and noble courage of this species. It is easily domesti-
cated and capable of remarkable friendship for man. One
kept by Dr. Bachman used to follow him about the yard and
garden. "The instant it saw me take a spade or a hoe," he
says," it would follow at my heels, and as I turned up the earth
would pick up every insect or worm thus exposed to view. I
kept it for three years, and its affection for me cost it its life.
It usually slept on the back of my chair, in my study, and one
night the door being accidentally left open, it w^as killed by
a cat. I once knew a few of these birds to remain the
whole of a mild winter in the State of New York in a wild
state."

Mr. Bartram, the distinguished naturalist of Philadel-
phia, and the friend of Wilson, furnished the latter with
the following note, concerning the sagacity of a Brown
Thrush which he had domesticated. " Being very fond of

THE SCARLET TAN ACER. 259

wasps, after catching them, and knocking them about to
break their wings, he would lay them down, then examine
if they had a sting, and, with his bill, squeeze the abdomen
to clear it of the reservoir of poison before he would swal-
low his prey. When in his cage, being very fond of dry
crusts of bread, if, upon trial, the corners of the crumbs
were too hard and sharp for his throat, he would throw
them up, carry and put them in his water-dish to soften,
and then take them out and swallow them."

The Brown Thrush is a bird of the Eastern United
States, wintering south, extending northward in summer
into the British Provinces, being very common about Great
Manitoulin Island, and breeding throughout its range.

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

I continue my early morning ramble along the edge of a
beautiful forest. The whole atmosphere seems to vibrate
to the song of birds. Some of them I hear for the first
time in the season. The song in yonder elm, for instance,
bearing quite a resemblance to that of the Robin, only
softer and less copious and fluent, is fresh and new this
morning; it is the song of the Scarlet Tanager {Pyranga
rubra), and compares well with any song in the woods, short
of that of the Thrushes. And yet neither Wilson nor
Audubon mentions anything more of song for this bird
than the chip, chur-i^-r-r, which is its common note. There,
I get a full view of him now, amidst the dark green of that
hemlock. Always slow and dignified in his motions, what
a brilliant beauty he is! Nearly the size of a Baltimore
or a Bobolink, 6.75 long and 11.73 in extent, he is
a pure, bright scarlet, with jet-black wings and tail.
Moving with a steady flight, he has lit on the side
of a moss-covered log, by a small pool, smooth as a

260 THE SCARLET TANAGER.

mirror. The scene is double, for the bird in the water is as
brilliant as that among the moss; and the water mirrors
not only the bird and the moss-covered log, but the sky.
I sympathize with this little creature's peaceful pleasures as
he dips his bill and drinks, then straightens himself up,
fills his throat and warbles, and drinks and warbles again.
Did Eden itself afford anything prettier than this of its
kind? Even the Creator must experience delight in such
quiet joys of His creatures.

For the first week after his arrival the Tanager seems
anxiously waiting for his rather plain colored mate — of
dull green above, yellowish beneath, and dusky wings and
tail. I once found her, however, delicately tinged with red,
a genuine beauty. During this time of waiting, he will
keep up his chip^ chur-r-r^ sometimes in a most animated
manner. Only occasionally will he indulge in his fine war-
ble. Meanwhile he keeps almost entirely to the woods.
Rarely he may be seen on the fence, or he may stray to the
orchard, or, if you are plowing near the woods, a half-dozen
of these scarlet beauties may visit your furrow, and glean
insects, according to their common habit of diet.

When the female arrives, shy and retiring, according to
the manner of female birds at such times, she at once
receives the most winning attentions. Now the song is
more frequent, the utterance of the common note may be
quite excited, and there is a display of graceful motions
and brilliant colors. See him stand before her with droop-
ing wings and spreading tail! How finely he hovers in her
presence, looking like burning scarlet amidst the black
cloud of his vibrating wings. Now she is joined to her
consort, and for the rest of the season the two are inseparable.

Soon they retire, for the most part, pretty well into the
forest, generally choosing as the site for their nest the

THE SCARLET TAN ACER. 261

horizontal bough of some pretty good sized tree, anywhere
from ten to thirty feet from the ground; oftener near the
latter height, though I have pulled down the limb and
looked into the nest. A frail fabric, indeed, is this nest.
Begun w^ith small twigSj stalks of weeds, strips of bark,
with a very little wool or down, perhaps, and lined with fine
rootlets or very fine dried spray of some evergreen (in this
locality generally the hemlock), the whole being somewhat
shallow, and very raggedly woven; one may almost count
the eggs from beneath. These, three or four, laid here late
in May, are .90 X .65 of an inch, delicate light-green, specked
or heavily spotted with reddish-brown. This nest is often
imposed upon by the Cow Blackbird. I once found one
containing four of these eggs, and but two of the Tanager's;
the former being in various stages of incubation, while the
latter were nearly fresh.

Wilson relates a beautiful incident concerning the parental
affection of the Tanager. He says: "Passing through an
orchard one morning I caught one of these young birds that
had but lately left the nest. I carried it with me about half
a mile to show it to my friend, Mr. William Bartram; and,
having procured a cage, hung it up in one of the large pine
trees in the botanic garden, within a few feet of the nest of
an Orchard Oriole, which also contained young, hopeful
that the charity or tenderness of the Orioles would induce
them to supply the cravings of the stranger. But charity
with them, as with too many of the human race, began and
ended at home. The poor orphan was altogether neglected,
notwithstanding its plaintive cries; and, as it refused to be
fed by me, I was about to return it back to the place where
I found it, when, towards the afternoon, a Scarlet Tanager,
no doubt its own parent, was seen fluttering round the cage,
endeavoring to get in. Finding this impracticable, he flew

262 THE SCARLET TAN ACER.

off, and soon returned with food in his bill, and continued
to feed it till after sunset, taking up his lodgings on the
higher branches of the same tree. In the morning, almost
as soon as day broke, he was again seen most actively-
engaged in the same affectionate manner; and, notwith-
standing the insolence of the Orioles, continued his benev-
olent offices the whole day, roosting at night as before. On
the third or fourth day he appeared extremely solicitous
for the liberation of his charge, using every expression of
distressful anxiety, and every call and invitation that nature
had put in his power for him to come out. This was toa
much for the feelings of my venerable friend; he procured
a ladder, and, mounting to the spot where the bird was
suspended, opened the cage, took out the prisoner, and
restored him to liberty and to his parent, who, with notes of
great exultation, accompanied his flight to the woods. The
happiness of my good friend was scarcely less complete,
and showed itself in his benevolent countenance; and I
could not refrain saying to myself: If such sweet sensations
can be derived from a single circumstance of this kind, how
exquisite — how unspeakably rapturous — must the delight
of those individuals have been, who have rescued their
fellow-beings from death, chains, and imprisonment, and
restored them to the arms of friends and relations! Surely
in such God-like actions virtue is its own most abundant
reward."

In time of cherries, when the family is absent, and every-
thing is quiet, the Tanager may come even into the door-
yard to vary his insect diet with this fruit, so highly in favor
with the birds.

Late in summer, or early in autumn, the families move
south, the old male having changed his coat of scarlet for
one of green, sometimes quite a little spotted with yellow,

THE SCARLET TAN ACER. 263

the young male a beautiful dark green, with black wings
and tail, the young fen)ale resembling her mother. Winter-
ing in the tropics, they range northward in spring, through
the Eastern United States, somewhat into the British
Provinces, though becoming rare already in Northern New
England. They breed throughout their range.

The observer of birds will soon notice that in about every
case of a brilliant male, the female is exceedingly plain, as
are also the young. Here is one of those suggestive facts,
which lead the reflecting mind to ask the reason why.
This does not look like mere chance; moreover, it serves a
purpose. Excepting a brief period in the breeding season,
the life of the female is of immensely greater importance
to the perpetuation of the species than that of the male ;
and the young, all unsuspecting of danger, need special pro-
tection. Their plain colors render them alike unattractive
to the eye of man, and inconspicuous to the bird or beast of
prey. Even the male sometimes has his gay livery only in
the breeding season, thus being protected in his southern
migration and early winter residence. Can any ingenious
conjecture of "Natural Selection" explain this significant
fact in coloration ? Is not this an evidence of mind in the
creation ? Or will the objector attribute a faculty of con-
scious design to matter itself ? Might he not then as well
believe in a personal Creative Intelligence ? How else shall
we explain this mysterious something revealed in matter,
which seems to know just what is fit under all circum-
stances ?

Similar to the above is the Summer Redbird {Fyranga
CBstiva). The length is 7.-20, the stretch 11.87; the male is
vermilion, brightest on the head, darker on the back, bright
beneath; wings and tail brownish. The female is olivaceous-
green above, yellowish below, wings darker or brownish.

264 ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK.

Young, similar to the female. The bill is thicker in this spe-
cies than in the Tanager. This is a bird of the Southern
States, extending into Southern Illinois in the west. Its nest
and eggs are similar to those of the Tanager, and its song
is loud and melodious.

ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK.

That song coming from the edge of the woods, and
strongly resembling the finest performance of the Robin —
only the warble is much more copious, continuously pro-

ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK.

longed, and finely modulated with a peculiar richness,
purity, and sweet pathos in the tones — is the music of the
Rose-breasted Grosbeak {Goniaphealudoviciand). Jet black
with snow-white markings, the tint of rose on his breast
and under his wings, he is the most strikingly beautiful of
all our summer visitants ; and in the charm of song, as a
poet and artist of the woodlands, he may rank even with

ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK. 265

the Thrushes. About 8 inches long ; the head, neck and
upper parts are black ; bill, rump, under parts and mark-
ings on wings and tail, white ; breast, rose-carmine ; lining
under the wings, delicate rose. The female has the upper
parts light brown, streaked with darker ; a line over the eye,
a slight one below it, and one over the middle of the crown;
tips of wing coverts, and under parts, white ; breast and
sides streaked and spotted with brown ; bright yellow under
the wings, and sometimes a tinge of the same on the upper
part of the breast. I have also seen a rose-tint mixed with
the yellow under her wings, and a most delicate tinge of the
purest rose on the white rump of the male. The large bill
of this bird, so strongly characterizing it and the group to
which it belongs, is in such harmony with the general shape
of the head as in nowise to mar its beauty. Indeed, the
fleshy-tinged whiteness of this prominent organ rather adds
to the elegance of the species.

The stranger to our sylvan retreats will scarcely meet
this charming bird; for its most agreeable summer
resort is in swampy woods, where the shadows are
deepened by tangled vines and a rank undergrowth,
where flowers are large and deeply tinted from rich vege-
table molds, and where the fragrant atmosphere is cool and
moist. Often it is found in the thickets forming a sort of
border-line between field and forest, and often in the lofty
arcades of the densest and darkest woodlands. In such
places, and rather local in his distribution, the male makes
his appearance in Western New York from the first to the
tenth of May; and stretching himself on tiptoe, delivers, m
a hurried and spirited manner, his rare and delightful
melody, giving one the impression of an exalted and unut-
terable joy in a language which means much, but leaves
much behind. Sometimes several appear together, vying

266 ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK.

with each other in song, and gamboling in the most sportive
manner. A few days later, when the leaves unfolding in
their soft down have fully expanded, the coy female appears.
Her plain light colors are strongly in contrast with the
ebony, chalk-white and deep rose of her consort; and as
she is almost voiceless, a glimpse of her amidst the thick
foliage is rather rare.

The nest of this species, built late in May, is a frail and
loosely-woven affair, placed in the top of a bush or on the
lower horizontal limb of a tree. It is composed outside of
small sticks, fine twigs, or coarse strawy material, orna-
mented with a few skeleton-leaves, and is lined with very
fine twigs of some evergreen (here, of the hemlock), or
with fine rootlets, sometimes being finished with horse-hair,
and the whole structure so loosely put together that one
can see through it from beneath. The eggs, four or five,
l.OOX-'J'o, are light green, specked and spotted with brown
and lilac, the markings often thickened or wreathed around
the large, sometimes around the small, end. In every way
the nest and eggs bear a strong resemblance to those of
the Scarlet Tanager, the nests of both these brilliant species
being a sort of rude log-cabin affair, compared with the
elegant nest-homes of many of our feathered tribes.

I have more frequently found the male than the female
on the nest. When disturbed they both keep very near,
moving about the branches with much excitement, as they
emit a sharp, creaking kimp., ki?np, quite unlike the note of
any other bird of my acquaintance. Though abundant
here in their migrations, and breeding very commonly, it
often requires a great deal of careful watching to get a
glimpse of even the male. So shy and retiring is he at nearly
all times as to be much more frequently heard than seen.
He has been in favor as a cage-bird, and is said by some

ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK. 26 T

to sing freely in the night. Though he belongs to the
Sparrows and Finches, and is therefore a seed and grain-
eating bird in structure, he devours multitudes of insects.
In early autumn, as the young males go south, resembling
the female in color and marking, only much darker and
richer, and delicately tinged with rose on the throat and
breast, on the crown, and under the wings, they are truly
beautiful.

Wintering in the tropics, migrating through Eastern
North America, rather rare in New England, but not un-
common in Nova Scotia, the Rose-breast breeds from the
Middle States to the latitudes of Labrador. It will thus
be seen to belong to the Canadian as well as to the AUe-
ghanian Fauna.

The Blue Grosbeak {Goniaphea coerulea), some 7.25 long, the
male blue, the female brown, is a southern species, reaching
the District of Columbia, or even Pennsylvania in the east,
and breeding commonly about Manhattan, Kansas, in the
west. Excepting its greater size, it bears a great resem-
blance to the Indigo Bird in color, song, and nidification.
The nest is in a tree not many feet from the ground. It is
rather bulky, composed externally of paper, weeds, strings,
bits of cotton or wool and cast-off snake-skins, and is lined
with rootlets, fine grasses or horse-hairs. The three or four
oval eggs, .95X.62, are pale-blue.

The Evening Grosbeak {Hesperiphona vespertind) is a
straggler from the northwest. Some 7.50-8.50 long, " dusky
olivaceous; brighter behind; forehead, line over eye and
under tail-coverts, yellow; crown, wings, tail, and tibiae
black, the secondary quills, mostly white; bill greenish-
yellow, of immense size." (Coues.) It is noted for its
melodious evening song.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE SWAMP, THE FIELD, AND THE LAKE.

IX all the domain of nature there is nothing which closely
resembles the nidification of birds. Certain reptiles lay
eggs, but, properly speaking, make no nest; nor are their eggs,
which differ very materially from those of birds, incubated
by the w^armth of their bodies. Every animal comes from
an Ggg, but in the case of mammalia, the young are brought
forth alive, and nourished by the milk of the female parent.
In the case of a bird, whether moving in the air or on the
water, lightness is a prime necessity. Hence, in bringing
forth their numerous progeny, they do not perform the
office of gestation; but the nest, and the external warmth of
the body, so well secured by the plumage, serve the purpose
of the uterine organs in the mammalia. Wonderful indeed is
that internal impulse of instinct, by which the bird is in-
duced to make a nest, and by which it is guided in the loca-
tion and manner of constructing the same. How came that
mother-bird to know she needed a nest ? Who instructed
her to adapt it to its peculiar purpose ? What strange power
keeps her on the nest till the young are brought forth ?

For the most part, the different species of birds have cer-
tain well-defined plans for building their nests, as well as
certain places for locating them. The nest is placed on the
limbs of a tree or bush, in a natural or prepared cavity, in
an excavation of the earth, in some cemented structure, or,

NIDI PICA TION. 269

more frequently than anywhere else, on the ground. Again
these nests are variously formed and joined together. They
are flat and loosely built of coarse materials, in the case
of most birds of prey and Herons, and these birds are called
platform-builders; or, they are more or less cup-shaped,
rimmed up, as in the case of the majority of nests built
about trees and bushes, and on the ground; or, they are
more or less basket-shaped, as, for example, the nests of the
Red-winged Blackbird and the Vireos; or, they are sewed
together, as those of the Orioles, or that of the famous
Tailor-bird; or, they have the structure of a loose felt; or,
they are dome-shaped. Hence, some very intelligent writers
have attempted to classify birds according to their styles of
nidification, calling them carpenters, masons, miners, plat-
form-builders, basket-makers, felt-makers, weavers, cement-
ers, tailors, etc. But this method of classification fails to
conform to any other system, and bears no relation what-
ever to the most important data for determining orders.
Birds so similar in structure and habit, as to represent the
same order, may vary essentially in their nidification. Most
kinds of Hawks, for instance, build platform-nests in trees,
while other kinds construct quite different nests on the
ground, and others still lay their eggs in cavities of trees,
almost without any nest whatever. The different kinds of
Swallows also adopt widely different modes of nesting, some
occupying cavities in trees or stumps, while others are
miners, tunneling a cavity into the ground, and others still
are cementers. Besides, the above method is imperfect in
itself, failing to make provision for some very important
groups, as those which commonly occupy cavities already
prepared, or those which lay their eggs on the ground with-
out any nest, or those which build their nests, raft-like, on
the water. Nor does the same species always construct or

270 NIDIFICA TION.

place its nest in the same way. The Song Sparrow is gen-
erally a ground-builder, but in the latter part of the season
it frequently places its nest in a hedge or in a low bush.
The Crow Blackbirds, in these parts, invariably build in a
tree, but in the south, Audubon found them appropriating
the cavities of trees, while Wilson not infrequently found
them a sort of parasite on the nest of the -Fish Hawk.

For the most part, birds' eggs are objects of great beauty.
Their form is unique and fine, their surface highly finished,
and their colors and markings often elegant. How strongly
differentiated too, generally, are the eggs of the birds of
each family! The blue-green eggs of the Thrushes; the
translucent white eggs of the Woodpeckers; the delicate,
white gems, specked with red, deposited by Titmice, Nut-
hatches and Creepers; the roundish, pure-white eggs of the
Owls; the light bluish-green eggs of the Herons; and the
smooth-shelled, creamy or green-tinted eggs of the Ducks,
are all data for classification to the naturalist.

Richard Owen, the great comparative anatomist of Eng-
land, after giving the complicated and wonderful history of
an ^^^ in its various stages till it reaches perfection; and
after showing the nice contrivances in the yolk and albu-
men, by which the cicatricle or germ is always held upper-
most, no matter how many times the ^^^ is turned over, in
order to keep it in contact with the sitting dam, and so
secure incubation and protect it from jars or injuries in
harsh movements; and after showing how '^ the domed form
of the hard shell enables it to bear the superincumbent
weight of the brooding mother," well says: "How these
modifications of the oviparous ^^^ in anticipatory relation to
the needs and conditions of incubation can be brought
about by 'selective' or other operations of an unintelligent
nature is not conceivable by me."

BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER. 271

These different birds' eggs, placed in varied and artistic
styles of nests, make bird-nesting peculiarly fascinating,
especially when it gratifies a thirst for knowledge. Then
the careful manner in which many nests are hidden away
among grass and foliage, or placed in remote regions, almost
beyond the reach of civilization, makes them objects of an
exciting curiosity, and contributes greatly to their value.

One of my most interesting places for the study of birds
in their breeding haunts is Tonawanda Swamp, bordering
Orleans County on the south, extending into Genesee County
southward, and far to the eastward and westward. Very
different indeed is the character of its various localities.
Here, in the midst of an almost undisturbed wilderness are
glassy ponds and coves, where various water-birds revel in
their migrations, and in the vicinity of which some rear their
young. Here are miry marshes, tracts of fallen trees par-
tially submerged, forests and low lands of dense shrubbery
standing in the water a great part of the year; dense groves
of cedar, extensive moss-bogs, cranberry marshes, and wild
meadows dry in summer and in early autumn. It is a very
paradise of wild flowers, shrubs, climbing and running vines,
and plants both delicate and curious.

BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER.

On a beautiful morning, the 7th of May, I enter one of the
cedar groves of the above region. In these deep shadowy
recesses I hear in various directions the song of the Black-
throated Green Warbler {Dendroeca virens). The notes are
most peculiar, and once identified can never be forgotten.
Many writers have described this song, for it seems to sug-
gest to almost every one some fancied phrase. One has
given it as " Hear ??te Saint Ther-e-sa;' while one of my
private correspondents represents the song by the ditty,

272 BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER.

^^ A little hit of bread and no cheese;'' and one distinguished

writer has indicated it simply by straight Hnes, thus,

^ . In all these attempts I can detect a fair de-

scription of the song, though none of them would have been
suggested to my ear. I never hear the song, however, with-
out thinking of the following resemblance : — " IVee-wee-su-
see," each syllable uttered slowly and well drawn out; that
before the last in a lower tone than the two former, and the
last syllable noticeably on the upward slide; the whole being
a sort of insect tone, altogether peculiar, and by no means
unpleasing. It seems somehow to harmonize finely with
pines, larches and hemlocks.

The ordinary four syllables of this ditty are sometimes
increased in number in the first part, sounding like wee-wee-
7i'ee-wee-su-see, and it is then uttered more hurriedly, making
you feel that a breeze may soon spring up among the pines;
and generally the different strains are intermixed with sharp
chipping notes, making the bird appear more spirited as it
nears you sufficiently to bring these metallic notes within
hearing.

Many a time have I strained my eyes after this little song-
ster, looking up into the thick cedars till my neck seemed
almost dislocated, and getting only an occasional glimpse
of him, so shy is he as he moves leisurely about in these
shadowy abodes. A sight of him, however, well rewards the
effort, for he is a rare beauty. About 5.00 long, moulded
after the Dendroeca, the olivaceous-green above often contains
fine triangular spots of black; the dusky wing and tail
feathers have a narrow, outward edge of white, while the
cheeks of lemon-3^ellow with a wavy line of blackish through
the eye, the white bars across the wing, and the jet-black
throat, breast and sides bounding the greenish white under
parts, differentiate him strongly. The colors and markings

BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER. 273

of the female are similar, but generally more obscure, al-
though I have seen her almost as fine as the male.

This Warbler is always to be associated with evergreen
groves and forests. In New England it is found among
the pines, here among the cedars and hemlocks. As its
nest is placed well up in the almost impenetrable thickets
of these branches, it is exceedingly difficult to find. In
this (Tonawanda) swamp, where the bird resides in abund-
ance throughout the summer, I have searched for its nest
days at a time, lying on the ground and watching the birds
in all their movements, and then climbing into the trees
and continuing to observe them while they kept up their
flitting motions and their song, almost constantly through-
out the day, and even into the dusk of the evening; but
never did I succeed in finding the nest in this locality. On
the 17th of last June (1881), at the foot of the Lecloche
Mountains, just north of Great Manitoulin Island, on the
Georgian Bay, I finally found the nest. About half a mile
from the bay, where the rushing waters of Lacloche Creek
left a lake in the mountains for this grand outlet, I had dis-
covered the Warblers to be very numerous — the Black-
throated Blue, the Yellow-rump or Myrtle Bird, the Yellow-
backed Blue, the Black -and -yellow or Spotted, the
Chestnut-sided, and I think I also heard the Black-poll
Warbler. But so tormentingly numerous were the black
flies, mosquitoes, and gnats, or " no-see-ums," as the Indi-
ans call them, that to remain there for observation was
unendurable. Again and again did I apply the olive oil
and tar, so highly recommended as a preventive of this
nuisance, but it relieved me only a little longer than while
I was rubbing it on. Noticing that the Indians in my
vicinity made their half-open wigwams apparently free
from these vermin by a smudge in front, or to the wind-
IB

274 BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER.

ward, I concluded to profit by their example, and setting a
match to a few dry leaves and shreds of birch-bark, upon
which I piled green hemlock boughs, I soon had a relief,
which was both complete and agreeable; the hemlock giv-
ing off a most delightful fragrance, as well as an abundance
of smoke, in combustion. For a radius of several rods
around me my minute tormentors were obliged to flee; and
on a bed of moss surrounded by the delicate and odorous
little twin-flower (that beauty of the northern parts of both
the Old World and the New, so greatly admired by, as well
as named after, the great Linnaeus), I continued my obser-
vations in peace. For a while I watch a pair of little Yel-
low-backed Blue Warblers, tugging at a bunch of so-called
long-green moss — alias usnea — hanging from the dead limb
of a tall hemlock; but I am soon diverted by the near
approach of a Black-throated Green Warbler, hopping
about very nervously, her mouth full of small, green lai'vce.
Understanding the sign full well, I am all attention, and the
bird seems equally attentive to me. For some time she
dallies and delays, but the knowledge of hungry little
mouths overcomes the parent's hesitation, and in a more or
less zigzag line, now behind the thick branches and now in
plain sight, she soon reaches the nest; which, behold ! is on
the limb of a young hemlock, just above my head. " So near
and yet so far!" full well applies to bird-nesting. Not a
few birds deserve but little sympathy in the loss of their
nests — they are such witches at hiding them away! No
time to lose. I hug the tree and scramble to the nest, some
twenty feet from the ground, a few feet from the trunk, and
where the limb sends out several small boughs. The founda-
tion of the structure is of fine shreds of bark of the white
birch, fine dry twigs of the hemlock, bits of fine grass,
weeds, and dried rootlets, intermixed with usnea, and lined

BLACK-AND-WHITE CREEPING WARBLER. 275

with rootlets, fine grass, some feathers, and horse-hair. It
was rather loose, open, and bulky, and contained four
young, partly fledged. Failing to find the eggs for myself,
I resort for description to a set from Reading, Massachu-
setts, in Professor Ward's collection at Rochester, N. Y.
They are four in number, about .70 X .49, creamy-white,
having a well-defined and beautiful wreath of spots and
small blotches of red, brown and lilac, intermixed with a
few specks of black.

Wintering in Cuba, Mexico and Central America, Den-
droeca virens ranges through Eastern North America, breed-
ing from New York and Southern New England northward
to Newfoundland. It enters its breeding habitat by the
first week of May, and leaves in October. It has been found
in Greenland and in Europe as a straggler.

THE BLACK-AND-WHITE CREEPING WARBLER.

In this thick grove of cedars I am almost constantly within
sight or sound of the Black-and-white Creeping Warbler
{Mniotilta varia). About five inches long, spotted and
streaked all over, except a white space underneath, with
jet-black and chalk-white, this bird is very conspicuous as
it moves in a hopping, jerking manner and in a spiral
direction, very much in the style of the Brown Creeper,
along the trunks and larger limbs of trees. Like the latter,
too, it has the habit of descending to the lower part of the
trunk of a neighboring tree, when getting pretty well up;
but its sharply defined markings, especially the broad white
line over the head and back of the neck, cause it to be seen
much more readily than its little brown neighbor, which is
so similar in color and markings to the bark which it climbs
with such ease and gracefulness. But while his movements
are those of a Creeper, the structure of Mniotilta is that of a

276 BLACK-AND-WHITE CREEPING WARBLER.

Warbler, except that his front toes are a little more joined
together at the base, and his hind toe a little longer and his bill
somewhat curved toward the tip. Very remarkable indeed is
this joint relationship of certain birds with two or more
different groups, so that it is only by a careful noting of
their stronger affinities that we can find their rank in classi-
fication. They serve as a sort of softening or blending of
the otherwise harsher boundaries of orders.

Not only does our little bird readily attract the eye; his
fine, soft and yet distinct song, ki-tsee, ki-tsee, ki-tsee, ki-tseCj
as slender to the ear as " hair-wire " to the eye, and rather
monotonous indeed, but so peculiar, so tender, so musical,
as even to soften and sweeten surrounding nature — is
equally attractive and pleasing to the ear. Warbler or
Creeper, he is one of the most welcome and beloved com-
panions of the dark woods and deep, swampy ravines which
he is wont to inhabit. Always keeping more or less to the
lower story of his shadowy abodes, his nest is generally on
the ground, near the root of a decaying stump or tree,
and so placed that "an overhanging rock, a log, the branch-
ing roots of a tree, or herbage of the preceding year affords
protection." It is a rather loose and scanty structure of
dried leaves and grasses, strips of bark, or pine needles,,
containing perhaps some vegetable down and horse-hair as
lining.

The eggs, averaging about four, .70x.50 or a little
more, and somewhat pointed, are creamy white, finely
specked, more thickly around the large end, with light brown
and a little pale lilac. The situation of this Warbler's nest
seems to vary considerably, however, in some cases. In
Louisiana Audubon found it "usually placed in some small
hole in a tree." Nuttall found one "niched in the shelving
of a rock." Dr. Brewer reports one found in the drain of a

BLACK-AND-WHITE CREEPING WARBLER. 277

house, while H. D. Minot found one "in the cavity of a tree
rent by Hghtning, and about five feet from the ground,"
and another "on the top of a low birch stump, which stood
in a grove of white oaks."

A nest, received from Nova Scotia, found with callow
young on the 19th of June, was placed on the top of an old
stump, about two feet from the ground, so set in the moss
and dried leaves as to be pretty much concealed, the top of
the stump somehow supporting several young maples. The
nest is quite deep and substantial, composed of leaves and
coarse bark-fibers throughout. It bears a decided resem-
blance to the nest of the Golden-winged Warbler.

The chippifig^ or ordinary alarm and conversational notes,
of the Black-and-white Creeper is somewhat varied, and
the female is not so clearly marked, having the black and
white of the throat of the male replaced by a dull white or
grayish. Migratory throughout Eastern North America,
even to the fur countries, a few only remaining in the extreme
Southern States in winter, this bird breeds throughout its
range, in this habit resembling the Brown Creeper rather
than the Warblers.

As I observe this Creeping Warbler, so industriously
gleaning the smaller insects with their eggs and larvae from
the bark of our forest trees, I am reminded of the economic
utility of our birds in the destruction of insects. The
Woodcock and Wilson's Snipe bore into the soft ground in
search of worms; the Sparrows, the Blackbirds, the
Thrushes, and many others, glean the caterpillars, grubs,
beetles and bugs upon its surface; the Barn and Eave Swal-
lows, the Purple Martin, the Bluebird and the Common
Wren, greatly reduce the spiders and other noxious insects
about our residences; King Birds, Shrikes, Orioles, Robins,
Goldfinches, the Yellow Warbler and the Warbling Vireo

278 BLACK-AND-WHITE CREEPING WARBLER.

protect the gardens and orchards against their numberless
pests; the Warblers, Vireos, Creepers and Nuthatches guard
our noble forests from the topmost foliage to the lower
bark-crevices; while even the Hawks and Owds contribute
not a little to the same great work of keeping in check the
swarming hosts of insects. The feathered tribes are there-
fore our most useful allies against that part of animated
nature which more than any other endangers our welfare,
namely, those insects which threaten our very subsistence.
It may be doubted whether the indiscriminate slaughter of
any of our birds is wise.

Changing my position somewhat in this great swamp, I
come into a wet slashing, having a dense second growth of
evergreens and various kinds of hard wood. O, the native
vines and wild flowers which everywhere abound! How
completely that Virginia creeper has enveloped the trunk
and larger limbs of yonder tall elm, its digitate or hand-
shaped leaves of five pointed and serrate leaflets of dark and
glossy green, covering the bark like a thick luxuriant mantle,
and making the tree appear at once most graceful and
superb. That virgin's bower entwining its petioles so ele-
gantly around a clump of bushes, either in its bloom so like
a fall of light snow-flakes, or in the heavy plumes of its
fruitage, may vie with any member of its family, even the
gay hybrids of the Old World. The remains of that large
tree — a very monarch of the forest, fallen generations ago
perhaps — is enrobed in. a thick plumose covering of hyp-
num mosses, variegated with star-flowers and mitreworts, in
a manner which defies description. And what shall we say
of the lady slippers, azalias, and honeysuckles, just about
to unfold their charms? Art can do much in the way of
placing and adjusting nature's beauties, but what can equal
the grace of wild vines, plants and flowers in their native

THE CANADA WARBLER. 279

arrangements? The wild grape-vine will festoon the forest
into domes, arches, and colonades, till it would seem the
very haunt of faries and sylvan deities. Liverworts, lichens
and ferns will drape the scars, rents and chasms of the
earth's surface with an inimitable beauty. I have seen an
old decayed stump in the forest, so dressed up from base
to top in fine mosses, and the whole broad top such a mass
of enchanter's nightshade with its delicate spray of leaves
and ethereal white blossoms, as to make it an object to be
coveted for the most royal domain. Had I enough of
Mother Earth that I could call my own, I would have a
flower garden according to nature; one which might show
no trace of human interference. If Adam and Eve had the
judgment and good taste generally attributed to them, in
some such manner, I think, must they have kept the Garden
of Eden.

THE CANADA WARBLER.

From a point in the thick bushes, somewhere near by,
there comes a song so peculiar both in enunciation and in
tone, that my genial companion in these sylvan studies
challenges my imitation of it. I finally resolve it, however,
into the following syllables: — chi-reach-a-dee, reach-a-dee,
reach-a-dee-chi — uttered in a hurried and spirited manner,
with a striking mixture of sibilant notes, and so much of
ventriloquism that it seems almost impossible to locate the
singer, though he be but a few yards distant. The bird,
moreover, is so shy and such an adept at concealment in
the thick foliage that I spend many minutes in the most
attentive observation before I can get even a glimpse of
him. Finally, while on hands and knees I am peering out
from under a thick bed of cinnamon ferns, the songster, all
unconscious of my presence, stands out in full view. About
5.50 long, the bluish-ash on the entire upper parts blends

280 THE CANADA WARBLER.

with the shadows in the thicket, and the bright lemon-yel-
low of the entire under parts seems almost the effect of the
sunlight through the openings among the leaves; but there
is a broad collar of jet-black spots across the breast, over
the forehead and down the cheeks and sides of the neck,
where the bluish-ash of the upper parts joins the yellow of
the throat, the former color shading into clear black as it
meets the line — these markings, along with the yellow eye-
lids, help me to define him as the Canada Warbler {Myio-
dioctes canade7isis). I find the bird abundant here in almost
any swampy region throughout the breeding season; and
there is, I think, no appreciable difference between the sexes.
Having identified my specimen, and risen from my place of
concealment, the bird becomes greatly excited, hopping
about among the leaves, bowing and "courtesying " prettily
indeed, but not obsequiously, and uttering a sharp chipping
note. I am reminded by the white or flesh-colored legs
and feet that this is what is commonly called a Ground
Warbler, and that its nest, therefore, is on the ground. I
make diligent search, as I have often done since, but all in
vain. A Ground Warbler's nest is one of the very hardest to
find. Others, however, have been fortunate enough to find the
nest, and from them I make out the following description:
Mr. Burroughs found one in the bank of a stream; Mr.
Boshart, of Low^ville, N. Y., found one sunk into the moss
on the side of an old log, while others generally report the
nest as found on the ground; Audubon alone describing it
as built otherwise — " in the fork of a small branch of laurel,
not above four feet from the ground." It is coarsely and
rather loosely built of leaves, dried grasses, etc., lined with
horse-hair. The eggs, .68X-50, are white, marked with
brown and lilac, somewhat clouded at the large end, and
slightly specked all over.

THE WINTER WREN. 281

Wintering beyond the United States, the Canada Warbler
extends through Eastern North America to Labrador, breed-
ing from New York northward.

I do not think this bird is as numerous far to the north or
northeast as it is in suitable places in this locality. Mr.
Chamberlain reports it as only an occasional summer resi-
dent in New Brunswick, and I did not find it in Nova
Scotia, nor does Mr. Downs, of Halifax, report it in his pri-
vate list of the Warblers sent to me.

Its bill bears a strong resemblance to that of a Flycatcher,
and it has therefore been called a Flycatching Warbler.

THE WINTER WREN.

Working my way back among the cedars to a spot where
the timber has been somewhat thinned by the axe of the
woodman, and where brush is piled up here and there, I am
startled by a most remarkable bird-song, which I have sev-
eral times heard in these parts before, but have never been
able to identify. Copious, rapid, prolonged and penetrating,
having a great variety of the sweetest tones, and uttered in
a rising and falling or finely undulating melody, from every
region of these " dim isles " this song calls forth the sweet-
est woodland echo. It seems as if the very atmosphere be-
came resonant. I stand entranced and amazed, my very
soul vibrating to this gushing melody, which seems at once
expressive of the wildest joy and the tenderest sadness. Is
it the voice of some woodland elf, breaking forth into an
ecstasy of delight, but ending its lyric in melting notes of
sorrow ? I strain my eyes this way and that way to get a
glimpse of the songster in the gloom of these damp, shadowy
regions, but cannot determine even the precise direction of
the sounds, so much of ventriloquism is there in this won-
derful performance. Having turned to every point of the

282 THE WINTER WREN.

compass, I finally discover the singer. He is perched on a
small dry limb of a cedar a few feet from the ground. The
volume and tone of the song lead me to expect a bird at
least as large as a Thrush, but lo, he is one of the most di-
minutive of the feathered tribes — the Winter Wren ! I can-
not be mistaken, for quite near and in full view, his short
tail thrown forward and his head partially raised, I can see
his breast swell and tremble while he several times repeats
his song. About 4.00 long, and thus about a half inch
shorter than the Common or House Wren, and of the same
reddish-brown waved with darker, the Winter Wren {Ano?--
thura troglodytes var. hyemalis) is to be distinguished by his
much shorter tail, and his white or whitish markings on the
sides of the head and on the primaries. But one does well
to make out this much while the bird is " in the bush ;" — so
diminutive, so nearly the color of dried bark and leaves,
and dodging in and out of rock-crevices, brush heaps and
bushes with the ease and rapidity of a mouse, it will be
necessary, in most cases, to obtain the bird " in the hand "
in order to identify it.

Though this species may be heard occasionally in the
cool cedar groves of Tonawanda Swamp throughout the
breeding season, I have not been one of the very few fortu-
nate enough to find its nest. Audubon found two nests.
One was in the pine woods of Pennsylvania, near Mauch
Chunk, on the lower part of the trunk of a tree, "a pro-
tuberance covered with moss and lichens, resembling those
excrescences which are often seen on our forest trees, with
this difference, that the aperture was perfectly rounded,
clean, and quite smooth. * * * Externally, it measured
seven inches in length, four and a half in breadth; the
thickness of its walls, composed of moss and lichens, was
nearly two inches; and thus it presented internally the

THE WINTER WREN. 283

appearance of a narrow bag, the wall, however, being re-
duced to a few lines where it was in contact with the bark
of the tree. The lower half of the cavity was compactly
lined with the fur of the American Hare, and in the bottom
or bed of the nest there lay over this about half a dozen of
the large, downy abdominal feathers of our Common Grouse,
i^Tetraouinbellus). The eggs were of a delicate blush color,
somewhat resembling the paler leaves of a partially decayed
rose, and marked with dots of reddish-brown, more numer-
ous towards the larger end." The second nest he found
"was attached to the lower part of a rock," on the bank
of the Mohawk River. It was similar to the other, only
smaller, and contained six eggs, the same number as found
in the former.

The nest, with eggs of this species upon which our later
ornithologists have been pretty much dependent for their
descriptions, was found by W. F. Hall in Eastern Maine;
the "nest built in an unoccupied log-hut, among the fir-
leaves and mosses in a crevice between the logs. It was
large and bulky, composed externally of mosses, and lined
with feathers and the fur of hedge-hogs. The shape was
that of a pouch, the entrance being neatly framed with
sticks, and the walls very strong, thick, and firmly com-
pacted. Its hemlock framework had been made of green
materials, and their agreeable odor pervaded the whole
structure."

Mr. H. D. Minot says: "Five eggs, not quite fresh,
which I took from a nest in the White Mountains on the
23d of July (probably those of a second set), were pure
crystal-white, thinly and minutely specked with bright
reddish-brown, and averaging about .TOx.oO of an inch.
The nest, thickly lined with feathers of the Ruffed Grouse,
was in a low, moss-covered stump, about a foot high, in a

284 THE SHORT-BILLED MARSH WREN.

dark, swampy forest, filled with tangled piles of fallen trees
and branches. The entrance to the nest on one side was
very narrow, its diameter being less than an inch, and was
covered with an overhanging bit of moss, which the bird
was obliged to push up on going in."

In 1878 Mr. James Bradbury, of Maine, found three nests,
one "sunk into the thick moss which enveloped the trunk
of a fallen tree," and two placed under the roots of fallen
trees. All the above nests seemed to resemble each other in
being more or less globular, with an entrance at the side,
the external structure being of moss, or of moss and twigs,
and thickly lined with fur and feathers; each nest being in-
geniously concealed or ensconced away. The eggs, five or
six, some .65X.50, are crystal-white, specked and spotted
with reddish-brown, the markings being generally distribu-
ted or gathered about the large end.

This species, closely allied to the Common Wren of Eu-
rope, occupies all North America, wintering from the Mid-
dle States, or even New England, southward; and breeding
from about the same point northward, especially in Maine
and even in Labrador.

Considering the smallness of its wings, and its ordinarily
short flights, the immense distances of its migrations have
always been a great mystery to ornithologists. Alaska has
a larger variety of this species, named Anorthura alascensis.

THE SHORT-BILLED MARSH WREN.

As I traverse an open marsh in another part of this same
swamp, a part which is wet in the late fall and the early
spring, but dry in summer, I find the Short-billed Marsh
Wrens {Cistothorus stellaris) in considerable numbers. If
dependent on the eye merely it would be exceedingly diffi-
cult to find these diminutive creatures, as they are nearly all

THE SHORT-BILLED MARSH WREiV. 285

the time down out of sight in the clumps of bushes, the tall
grasses or the still taller sedges; but one is constantly aided
in the search for them by their noisy notes and odd songs.
Chip-chip-chi-chi-chi-chi, or tsip-tsip-tse-tse-tse-tse — the first
two or three notes being uttered more slowly, the rest
very rapidly, and all in a sharp, metallic and spirited tone
— may represent the song, which is not very musical,
indeed, but rather pleasing, and decidedly enlivening to
these otherwise quiet marshes. Like any other Wren, this
species is exceedingly sprightly in all its motions, and is a
very adept at clinging to and sliding up and down the
culms of grasses and sedges — tipping, tilting and tossing
its tail in every conceivable manner. In voice and in action
it is certainly an intensely animated bit of nature. Scarcely
4.50 long, and very slender, it is streaked with light and
dark brown over the head, nearly black, mixed with some
reddish brown and streaked with white on the back, wings
and tail dusky, barred with light brown, under parts gray-
ish-white, shading into light brown on the sides.

The nest, about the size and shape of a common cocoa-
nut, composed of dried and thoroughly bleached grasses
and sedges, is closely compacted, with a clear round open-
ing on the side near the top, and is more or less lined with
vegetable down. This structure rests on the ground at the
roots of the sedges, or is tied to their culms a very few inches
from the ground. In this and corresponding localities it is
made early in June. The eggs, some 7 or 8, about .54X.48,
so rather roundish— (Dr. Coues reports them "rather elon-
gate")— are of a fine porcelain-white, having the highly
finished surface of the Woodpecker's eggs. These white
eggs are an anomaly among Wrens.

The Short-billed Marsh Wrens are said by Nuttall —
who was the first to point them out as different from the

286 MARYLAND YELLOW-THROATED WARBLER.

Common Marsh Wren — to "spend much of their time in
quest of insects, chiefly crustaceous, which, with moths,
constitute their principal food."

This species differs from the Common Marsh Wren in its
notes; in its shorter bill; in its darker colored breast; in its
inhabiting dryer places — its nest never, I think, being placed
over water; in the position of its nest, always on or near the
ground — being composed of bleached material and very com-
pactly made (wrongly figured by Audubon) — and, particu-
larly, in its pure white eggs.

Wintering in the Southern States, the Short-billed Marsh
Wren breeds throughout the Eastern United States to New
England and Manitoba; but it is not nearly as generally
distributed as its cousin of the longer bill. It reaches these
middle districts early in May, and leaves early in September.

MARYLAND YELLOW-THROATED WARBLER.

Reaching a bog, where, in trying to cross, I sink at
every step into an almost bottomless bed of soft moss, I
hope to find something new. In respect to plants, I see at
once that I shall not be disappointed. Here is the curious
pitcher-plant in abundance. Its leaves, having the bowl,
handle and spout of a pitcher, are full of water; and its
flower, which w\\\ appear in a few weeks, will be almost as
curious as its leaves. Here too, I find the marvelous little
sundew, Drosera rotujidifolia, about which the evolutionist,
Darwin, has written so much. The little round leaves are
thickly beset with transparent bristles, each of which bears
on its extremity a viscid globule as clear as a dew-drop.
These glandular hairs are said to be sensitive, and to entrap
insects, but I cannot make the experiment succeed.

Around the edge of this bog, among the varied shrubbery
belonging almost entirely to the Heath and Rose families,

MARYLAND YELLOW-THROATED WARBLER. 287

I hear the song of the Maryland Yellow-throat (Geothlypis
trichas), a warbler quite common to the shrubbery of our
swamps and low lands. The song of this bird is very dis-
tinctive and easy to recognize. Weech-a-tee, weech-a-tee,
weech-a-tee, weech-a-tee, in loud whistling tones, slowly and
distinctly uttered, and strongly accented on the first syllable
of each repetition, represent it to my imagination. Some-
times, however, a syllable of each group of notes is left out,
making the melody sound like we.ech-ee, weech-ee, weech-ee,
weech-ce. The song is very constant, but the singer is rather
shy, keeping out of sight in the thick foliage the greater
part of the time. Nearly 5.00 long, and having a very short,
round wing for a warbler, the male is olive-green above,
becoming grayish on the back of the head and neck, throat
and under parts yellow, becoming lighter on the belly; over
the forehead and eyes and down the cheeks is abroad band
of jet-black, bordered behind with ash which shades into
the grayish-green beyond ; legs, flesh-color. The female
lacks the black and ash on the head, and has the crown
brownish. In sprightliness of song and distinctive color of
plumage, this Warbler ranks high, being one of those bright,
melodious birds of the swamp which, like certain very brill-
iant and fragrant flowers of the same locality, are a de-
lightful offsetting to stagnant pools, quagmires, pestiferous
vapors, and tormenting insects. Like the rest of the War-
blers, it is a great destroyer of insects, without at any time
injuring the products of industry.

The nest of this species is on the ground near some stream,
or in a low, wet place at the roots of bushes; is generally
well sunken into the ground, made of dried leaves and
grasses, often lined with hair, and is sometimes arched over
after the manner of the Golden-crowned Accentor. Mr. W.
Brewster found a nest of this species on June 3d, 1875, in

288 THE BOBOLINK,

the top of a ground juniper, some two feet from the ground.
The 4 or 5 eggs, some.70x.55, are white, specked and
spotted, sometimes wreathed with light brown and lilac.
Clear white eggs rarely occur.

Wintering sparingly in our southern border, but mostly
beyond, the Maryland Yellow-throat breeds throughout the
Union, abundantly in the Middle States, and commonly in
New England and Nova Scotia. Audubon saw none in
Newfoundland nor in Labrador.

THE BOBOLINK.

Leaving the swamp and coming out into the broad mead-
ows in the vicinity, I am greeted by the newly-arrived
Bobolink {JDolichonyx oryzivorus). It is difficult to speak of

THE BOBOLINK.

the Bobolink without going into ecstasies. To say the
least, he is the finest bird of our fields and meadows. See
him mount that stake by the road-side! Every feather of
his jet-black front is partially raised, the elegant creamy-
white patch on the back of the head and neck is elevated into
a crest; his wings and scapulars, so finely marked with white,

THE BOBOLINK. 289

are partially extended; and as he pours forth his marvelous
song, he waltzes gracefully to his own music, turning slowly
around, so that the beholder may have a fair view of all
sides. Now he launches into the air, and — half hovering —
half flying — his song becomes even more resonant and pene-
trating; the loud, rich, liquid notes of his prolonged and
varied warble causing the air to vibrate over many acres of
the open field. The first tinkling tones are like those of a
fine musical box rapidly struck, then come the longer drawn
notes as of a rich viol or violin, and finally the sweet liquid,
limpid, gurgling sounds as of an exquisite bell-toned piano
lightly and skillfully touched. These several different
strains, variously modulated, are uttered with a rapid, gush-
ing volubility, which to an untrained ear might sound like
the performance of a whole chorus of songsters. As the
strain ceases, he drops down most gracefully with elevated
wings into the clover, or, grasping the elastic culms of the
taller grasses, swings proudly on his tiny perch. Each in-
dividual adopts his own territory and adheres to it, compell-
ing his intruding neighbor to retire to his own side of the
road or fence, and then returning to his own domain with
the air of independence and authority. Here he keeps up
his proud antics and charming melody some week or ten
days before the female arrives. Only 7.50 long, and very
nearly the colors and marking of a Sparrow — the lighter
parts being simply a little more yellowish — you would
never suspect her relation to such a gay consort. He recog-
nizes her at once, however, and begins his ardent demon-
strations. He sings and waltzes to her, hovers in front of
her, fairly rending his throat in the ardor of his musical per-
formance; and when she in her coyness, real or feigned, flees
from him, he pursues her closely, and they dash in and out
of bushes, trees, and fences with the most perilous speed.
19

290 THE BOBOLINK.

More than once he slackens the chase for a few minutes,
alighting and throwing in a few of his finest musical flour-
ishes, and again renews it as ardently as ever, till at length
he completely wins the object of his passion. Now they are
seen together for a short time, and then the modest female
retires among the clover and the taller grasses of the lux-
uriant meadow; and, scooping out a rather deep cavity in
the ground, arranges a frail, loose nest of dried grasses, and
lays her 5 eggs — averaging about .90X-67, white tinged
with brown, spotted, blotched, and clouded with several
shades of brown, and also a neutral shade of brownish-lilac.
She adheres most closely to her nest. In walking across
the field you may almost step on her before she will leave
her treasures. Then flying only a few feet, she is instantly
out of sight again; and unless you are a ready observer, or
have some knowledge of birds and nests, you will be puzzled
to know what you have found. As the Bobolink raises but
one brood, and in the thick grass, some time before the hay
is cut, its nest is but seldom seen by the farmer.

During the whole period of incubation the male is one
of the happiest of birds. Without any perceptible sense of
care, or of any misgiving whatever, he keeps up his gay per-
formances of waltzing, flight, and song, with but little
intermission, his beautiful figure adding greatly to the charms
of the summer landscape, and his far-reaching melody
harmonizing grandly with the joyousness of the season,
and ever cheering the husbandman in his long hours of toil.

If the Bay- winged Sparrow is ''the poet of the plain,
unadorned pastures," the Bobolink is the poet of the luxu-
riant blooming meadows, announcing the beauty and the
promise of the fruit-blossoms, and hymning the bright hues
and the fragrance of the clover. It is the utterance of all
the youth and joy of spring — of an unbounded hilarity.

THE BOBOLINK. 291

In due time the young appear, a thrifty family, all clad
in the plain but beautiful habit of the female, having a great
deal of yellow, almost of bright yellow, on the under
parts. When they leave the nest the parents show the great-
est solicitude for them, flitting about in the most excited
manner, and chipping loudly when their domain is intruded
upon.

The nest of the Bobolink being so well hid away, and in
parts little infested by enemies, it would seem that the
species must sustain but a small loss during the breed-
ing season.

These birds have their casualties, however. Walking
once over a meadow along a little stream, I saw a young
Bobolink fluttering over the edge of the water; and going
up to it, saw something like a good sized stone just under
it, which I imagined had in some way fastened down the
bird so that it could not get away. Taking hold of the
supposed stone and lifting it out of the water to free the
bird, my friend accomipanying me called out, "<^ ticrtle!''
Sure enough! a large turtle had been holding the bird by
the foot, but relinquished it on m}" interference. I do not
know which was the quickest, I to let go the turtle, or the
bird to fly away to the woods beyond.

Perhaps the bird, thinking this reptile a stone, had lit on
it to drink, and had thus been entraped by the treacherous
object.

About the 20th of August these birds are gathered in
flocks preparatory to migration. By this time the old males
have laid aside the gay livery of the breeding season, and
appear as plain and sparrow-like as the rest of the family.
Imagine the chagrin and disappointment of European bird
fanciers, in the early history of our country, who, having
captured Bobolink in all the glory of the breeeding season,

292 THE BOBOLINK.

beheld him turn brown and spotted as a Sparrow and be-
come voiceless ere they reached the end of their long'
voyage homeward! Nor does this bird ever resume his
bright colors while caged. Exceedingly perplexing, too,
was this change of plumage to the first students of Ameri-
can ornithology, who saw the males migrate in immense
numbers to the north in spring, but saw none return to the
south in autumn.

As soon as the Bobolinks begin to flock for their very
leisurely fall migration, their whole manner is entirely
changed. Who would imagine those immense flocks of
plain birds, flying high, and in the swift undulating manner
of the Goldfinch, over the marshes about Niagara River in
August, to be the same species which he saw enlivening the
meadows the spring before. That plain and subdued note
which it repeats quite leisurely — quait. quait^ quait — could give
no clue to the voice of the same bird a few weeks earlier.
But fire into the flock as they alight among the weeds and
grasses after the manner of Snowbirds in winter, and like
them, feed on seeds instead of insects, and you will find
them to be veritable Bobolinks in excellent condition, and
not at all of mean appearance, clad in their finely-marked
suits of greenish-yellow and brown. These autumnal mi-
grations continue through the day and the night, and pretty
much throughout the month of August along Niagara River
and along the shores of our Great Lakes in its vicinity. In
the day-time even, one often hears the familiar migratory
note above given, without being able to see the birds. On
looking carefully, however, one can see them flying very
high, seeming scarcely more than dark specks against the
sky.

As these birds move southward, they receive different
names according to their habits of diet. In Eastern

THE YELLOW-IVINGED SPARROW. 293

Pennsylvania, where they feed on the seeds of the reeds
along the rivers, they are called Reed-birds, and in the
south, where they feed on the rice, they are called Rice-
birds,

Wintering beyond our boundaries, this bird enters the
Eastern United States in large numbers, and reaching the
Middle States about the first of May, breeds from thence
northward to the Saskatchawan, and west to the Rocky
Mountains. To the eastward, Mr. Smith reports it as breed-
ing abundantly in Maine ; Mr. Chamberlain gives it as a
common summer resident in New Brunswick, particularly
in the valley of the St. John River, and I found it plentiful
last June in the Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia, but did not
see it elsewhere in the Province. Mr. Maynard gives its
summer habitat between 38° and 48°. Arriving in Western
New York during the first week in May, it reaches Maine
about the middle of that month, and New Brunswick about
the last.

On account of its short, thick bill, this bird was once called
a Bunting, but its general structure places it among the
Marsh Blackbirds or American Starlings; and as its white
markings are similar to those of a Skunk, it has also been
called the Skunk Blackbird.

THE YELLOW-WINGED SPARROW.

Perched on the fence by the roadside, in a neighborhood
called Pine Hill, is the Yellow-winged Sparrow {Coturniculus
passerinus). It is not at all common here, and seems confined
to certain dry or sandy fields. Some 5.00 long, with wings
much rounded and tail-feathers narrow and pointed, the
plumage above is dark brown, almost black, edged with
buff; head of the former color, with clear median line of the
latter; this bird is distinguishable from all other Sparrows

294 THE YELLOW-WINGED SPARROW.

of its size in this localit}^, by its clear buff breast and the
bright yellow on the edge or shoulder of the wings. It has
also a small line of the last mentioned color from the base
of the bill over the eye. On the whole, it is a very light
colored Sparrow.

The fence is a rather high perch for this bird. It is gen-
erally seen on the ground or swinging on a spear of grass.
From some such lowly position it utters its humble song,
which is a faint but prolonged squeak, so much resembling
the shrilling of certain grasshoppers that an ordinary ear
would scarcely detect the difference. On listening closely,
however, and having identified the song, one will discover
that it is generally preluded and ended with a faint war-
ble. Unpretending as this song is, the singer is neverthe-
less ambitious; for on hearing another of its