"Alas! How fallen is man! I never yet have given cause for complaint,
nor cost man anything. My deeds have been deeds of kindness. I am calm
and peaceful among my neighbors, and have ever loved man's humanity.
Never did I think that such a fate as this awaited me at the hand of man
whom I have cheered all seasons of the year, in May and December alike,
as he has gone forth to and from his daily labor. Had this misfortune
been brought on by some cat or mink or weasel, or even by some of my
bird enemies, I could have reconciled myself to it. But I have been
man's best friend and he knows it. My numberless ancestors have been
among man's best supporters. My dream has been, during these many days
of toil and care, to watch my happy little family of birds grow up in
the ways of chickadees, that they too could soon be able to go forth
prepared for the battle of life and partake of the great feast of
insects and worms and insect eggs, so abundant over there in the
orchards and lawns and to which all farm crops would become a prey
without us.
"But alas! My hopes are blighted and my dream turned into a nightmare.
Only one egg pipped, so I could glimpse the little mouth beneath! A ray
of sunshine! A consummation devoutly to be wished for! My little ones
breaking through those prison walls, soon to become my companions!
"Today it is all over. A funeral dirge instead of songs of joy and
gladness! Some vandals have wrecked my home and destroyed my
prospective little ones! I almost wish they had taken me too. What have
I done to cost me this? You said you would protect me, O man! Are you
doing it? Have I proved unworthy of your good will and friendship? My
record will bear me witness before any court in the land."
* * * * *
Presently the male bird came upon the spot, but had very little to say.
What little he did say seemed to be very consoling to the mother bird.
As he receded to the thick of the pasture again, the mother bird began
anew her low melancholy song. How can we ever reconcile such thoughtless
deeds with the higher forms of civilization! But we must return to the
nest. It was not entirely destroyed, and I gathered the remains, which
contained two eggs covered in the litter torn from the walls of the
nest. I sawed off the post just below the nest cavity and put it in my
office. The eggs were white with brownish red spots. The nest was made
of fibrous roots, jute fiber lined with hair. Dr. Bachman found one made
of fine wool, cotton and some fibres of plants, containing pure white
eggs, the nest being in a hollow stump about four feet from the ground.
It is safe to say that the chickadee is a resident bird throughout the
United States and is rather abundant in the Southern states.
I have often thought that we could make ourselves far happier if we
studied birds aesthetically, rather than economically, but it seems that
we shall for a long time to come, count the worth of any factor in
Nature by utilitarian methods. If we must do so, let us see what kind of
showing our chickadee makes for herself. Let us see just what relation
she bears to plant life. Edward H. Furbush finds that the chickadee
feeds upon tent caterpillars and their eggs; both species of the
cankerworm moth and their larvae; codling moths with their larvae; the
forest tent caterpillar, and the larva chrysalis and imago of the gypsy
and brown tail moths. They also eat the lice and their eggs of the apple
and willow. We see then that a great deal can be said in their favor.
Another thing so favorable to our little friend is that of all his or
her habits of life, we know of nothing bad. All that can be said is in
her favor, more than can be said of many of us.
The sad story of my chickadee's nest will suggest to all thinking people
the reason why so many of our valuable birds are so rapidly vanishing or
diminishing in numbers, and the urgent need for an immediate check upon
our wreckless slaughter. Upon a careful count in several parts of the
country it has been found that birds are a natural check upon insect
pests, and not to protect and welcome them is to foster the growth of
these pests. The fate of this little nest is likewise the fate of many
thousand nests annually, of useful birds. Who could ever estimate the
gallons of innocent blood shed at the hands of the untrained and
wilfully evil bands of boys roving the woods on the Sabbath!