To be intimate with Nature is as important to the investigator as the
ability to technically classify the things found therein.
In this connection we copy, by permission, the words of Olive Thorne
Miller, from the "School Room Methods and Nature Study:"
"Recognizing a bird on sight or hearing, knowing his nest and
eggs, when he arrives in the spring, and when he departs in the
fall, does not by any means imply that one is acquainted with the
bird himself. All these facts are easily acquired; they have been
set down in the books these many years.
But whoso really desires to know the little being so beautifully
enshrined; to see his home ways with his mate and little ones; to
find out his personal habits; his likes and dislikes; his tastes;
his disposition; in a word his personality, for him is something
very different from book study. He must go into the field and
observe for himself; for well as we may know our common birds
by sight, glibly as we can explain their anatomy, give their
scientific names, and their place in our classification, of their
lives and habits we are in almost total ignorance.
This is a field of inquiry as fascinating as it is fresh and
unexplored. Nothing but the greed of collecting and the passion
for classifying, could so long have blinded men to the charm of
studying life instead of death, the individual instead of the
skin. And this is the beautiful work left for us to do, to make
the world acquainted with the lives of our little brothers in
feathers.
For this work are needed, patience that knows no fatigue,
accuracy of observation, enthusiasm that scorns such trifles
as wet feet, torn garments, insect bites and stings, burning
sun or blistering wind, and above all--lacking which all else
is useless--truthfulness that will report correctly, without
exaggeration or coloring. To one possessing these qualities a
whole world of delight is open.
Nor is this world so difficult to enter as it seems at first.
Science--whose help is needed--has, to be sure, shrouded itself
in technicalities, buried its facts under scientific terms, and
hidden its names in a dead language. But all this, which perhaps
was necessary, can be got over. With a little courage, and some
perseverance, this bristling array of difficulties may be broken
through, and the charming goldfinch be as lovely and bewitching
under the name of Spinus tristis, as of thistle bird, or yellow
bird.
How shall we go to work? This is the first question always.
Let me give you a few hints: Some fine morning dress yourself
in modest-hued array, dull olive of medium shade best; discard
all conspicuous details of costume; take off ribbons and
veils, and all fluttering things; reject the spring hat with
its eccentricities of flowers, fruits, feathers, or general
fluffiness, and put on a plain shade hat, as near the color of
the dress as possible; leave parasol, bag or basket and book all
at home. Slip into a flat pocket on the outside of your gown or
coat, a small note book with sharpened pencil attached to it,
and suspend by narrow ribbon around the neck, so that it will
hang above the waist and be ready for instant use, an opera glass
without its case. On your left arm carry a light folding camp
stool--and start out.
Bid adieu to your friends, and go alone, for the temple of Nature
can never be entered in crowds, nor even in pairs. Turn your
steps to the best place you know of; an old orchard, a grove with
underbrush near a house, a ravine, a swamp, or the edge of woods.
Walk slowly and leisurely along, with little noise of footsteps,
and without swinging arms.
Arrived in your chosen spot look sharply around for the flitting
forms of the birds. When you see one, stop at once; quietly slip
your stool off your arm and sit upon it, with as little motion as
possible. If you place it against a tree trunk, to furnish a back,
you can be comfortable in that one position an hour without moving.
Now slowly raise your opera glass to your eyes, adjust the focus
to bring the bird clearly before you, and proceed to study him.
First you want his description so that you can name him. Look
very carefully at him, his size and shape, his coloring above and
below, his peculiar markings, the shape of his tail at the end,
and the color and shape of the beak. As you settle one point write
it in your note book, which you have quietly drawn out of its
pocket.
His description recorded, proceed to note his manners; whether
quiet or restless, whether he jerks his tail, or his head; walks
or hops. See what he is doing; picking up insects, digging them
from bark or ground, seeking them among flowers or leaves, or
whether he is eating seeds from the grass or weeds. Sit there as
long as that bird is in sight, and note down everything he does,
even his calls and his song as it sounds to you.
When you go home take your manual and look for a description that
matches yours. This is where troubles begin, not only the obscure
scientific terms, and the Latin names, but the knowing where in
that big book to start. You will be helped by observing what the
bird ate. If he hammered on the bark and picked his food from tree
trunk or limb, look among the woodpeckers; if he flew out, made a
turn or two and back to his perch seek him among the fly-catchers;
if he was eating seeds, look among the finches; and so on.
When by a little work you have passed this Rubicon--where so many
turn back discouraged--you will reap your reward, success. Having
persevered, and named your bird without help, you will feel a new
pleasure in his acquaintance, as if he belonged to you, and you
will never forget him.
Then go out and make acquaintance with another. You will find
him easier to identify, and as you will become familiar with its
idiosyncrasies the manual will lose its terrors for you.
Of course all this trouble will be avoided if you begin with the
study of scientific ornithology. But in that case you are in
danger of becoming absorbed in the science, and getting to care
more for the dry bones and the dead skin, than for the living
bird, and thus adding one more to the ornithologists, and taking
one from the students of life."