Look on your map for the Sierra Nevada, the range of mountains between
California and Nevada. On the east side of them you will find Owen's
River, running south through a beautiful valley of the same name. On
each side of this valley rises a lofty mountain range. The White
Mountains at the north end of the valley end somewhat suddenly in what
is called White Mountain Peak, more than thirteen thousand feet high.
It was in the valley at the foot of this grand mountain that I saw the
curious scene which I wish to describe to you, and which makes me think
that birds do know their old homes, and that they are ready to fight for
their rights.
In July, 1874, I stopped for a few hours at the house of Mr. Mack, who
owned a quartz mine in the neighboring mountain. As I sat on the veranda
I noticed on one of the posts a singular nest, or rather it seemed to be
a pile of nests. On examination I found that it was really made up of
eight nests, built one upon the other; and that they were of two kinds:
first one of soft materials (grass and hair, etc.), then one of mud,
then the soft nest again, then the mud, and then in the upper nest
(which was of mud) the bird which had built it was sitting on her eggs.
In answer to my questions, Mrs. Mack gave me the following account.
In the spring of 1871 a pair of linnets began building a nest in the
place which I saw. In this there was nothing uncommon. The linnets love
to be about houses, and very frequently make their nests on any exposed
beams which they can find in verandas or porches, rather than in trees
or bushes. I have seen hundreds of them in such places. This pair of
linnets quietly completed their nest, and it already held one or two
eggs, when a pair of barn-swallows arrived, and after looking at the
place, and evidently talking the matter over in their own fashion,
decided to take possession of it for themselves by driving out the
linnets, and forthwith a violent battle commenced.
[Illustration: CALIFORNIA LINNET.]
But before going further, I must stop a minute to tell you a little
about the two kinds of birds. The linnets you have probably never seen,
unless you have been in California. There they are extremely abundant:
east of the Rocky Mountains they are not found. The females, and all the
young birds until they are at least a year old, have much the look of
several species of our brown sparrows. The English sparrow, which has
become so very common in our cities and villages, gives you quite a good
idea of their size and color. The male bird, however, when in full
plumage, is very different. His head and shoulders and breast are richly
marked with crimson of a purplish hue, giving him a lively and elegant
look, decidedly different from his plainly dressed wife and children. He
is a fine singer, and it is not an unusual thing to see him in a cage,
and hear him called a California canary.
The linnets in California are not migratory; they remain through the
winter as well as the summer. The barn-swallows, on the contrary, are
migratory, just as they are here, for, unlike the linnets, they inhabit
the whole breadth of the continent. In the fall they go south, as far as
Mexico and Central America, and return in the spring all along the
Pacific coast of the United States.
Thus our pair of linnets had had time to begin their housekeeping before
the swallows arrived from the south. As I said, the swallows appeared to
hold a consultation, and then very deliberately began the fight. The
attack was resisted as stoutly as it was made, and for the whole of the
first day no material advantage was gained by either party. There was a
great amount of violent chattering, and many severe blows struck,
causing some loss of feathers; but the linnets held their ground, or
rather their nest, and when night came, the swallows retired, leaving
them in possession.
Early the next morning the contest was renewed, and all through the
forenoon it raged fiercely, with short intervals for rest, but noon had
come without any apparent results. A little after noon the swallows
suddenly, as if by agreement, flew away to the roof of an adjacent
building, as though acknowledging a defeat, and the linnets were left
once more in peace. They testified their enjoyment of the release by a
constant happy twittering; but this was not to last. After about half an
hour, the swallows, having sat without stirring all this time on the one
spot where they alighted, sprang together from the roof, and darted like
an arrow straight at the nest. The linnets were apparently taken by
surprise, and in less than two minutes they were driven out of the nest,
down upon the floor of the veranda, then upon the ground outside, and
finally, with a loss of many feathers, entirely away from the house, and
the swallows, with every demonstration of joy, took possession of the
nest.
Their conversation seemed to be very earnest, and at the same time very
cheerful, for they doubtless thought the victory was won. But what were
the linnets doing all this time? At first, for a few minutes, they were
apparently quite downcast. They hopped about restlessly and uneasily on
the bush to which they had fled, and were entirely still. After a little
while they evidently began to confer with one another, and it was plain
that the female was more energetic than the male, and was urging him to
do something which he disliked. But as might have been expected, she
carried her point. Mrs. Mack was watching them, when the conversation
came to an end.
They sat perfectly quiet for a few minutes, and then, with a dash as
savage as that of their adversaries had been before, they charged full
upon the nest, and, to their credit be it said, they won the victory.
The swallows were routed, without having time for scarcely a blow in
their own defense. They fled for their lives, and were chased off, not
only from the veranda and the house, but even from the neighborhood, and
the linnets returned in such a frame of mind that they continued the
celebration of their triumph for the remainder of the day, the male
maintaining a steady song until evening.
But alas! Though their cause was just, and they were only fighting in
defense of their home, they were defeated after all. The next morning
about ten o'clock the swallows dashed in again, and the battle raged as
fiercely as ever, and before noon the poor linnets were driven off, not
to return. They were completely quelled, and for a day or two hung about
the place disconsolately, but at the end of that time they recovered
their spirits, selected a place on the other side of the house, where
they built a new nest, and went on with their housekeeping with as much
contentment apparently as though no evil had happened.
[Illustration: BARN-SWALLOWS' NEST.]
The swallows had won their house-lot, and they speedily began to build.
The linnets' nest was beautifully made of soft grasses and hair and
other fibrous materials, and the first thing which the swallows did was
to plaster that across the top solidly with mud, so as to make a
foundation on which they could work. The barn-swallows always construct
their nests of mud, mixing with it a small number of pieces of straw or
grass. They heap up the mud until often the nest weighs as much as two
pounds, and then the hollow top is beautifully lined with soft
materials, grasses, feathers, etc., on which the eggs are laid.
These swallows went on as usual, and just as though they had not
obtained their home by robbery and violence. They reared their brood of
young ones, and in the fall all flew away to the south with the others
of their kind.
In the spring of 1872 the scene was repeated. A pair of
linnets--probably the same pair--built their nest on the same post, but
it was necessarily placed on the top of the swallows' nest of the last
year. Their work was completed just before the swallows arrived. One
pair of the latter appeared to understand that the place belonged to
them, for without any delay or hesitation they attacked the linnets
furiously, and after a conflict lasting until the second day, drove them
away, buried the soft nest in mud as before, and occupied the spot as
their home for the summer.
[Illustration]
The same thing transpired in 1873, and when I saw the structure in 1874
it had occurred for the fourth time. The linnets had built and been
driven away, the swallows had occupied the field, and I saw the female
bird sitting quietly on her eggs in a nest which was in the summit of a
strange-looking pillar. The pillar was a rough mass, four or five inches
in diameter, and more than a foot high, composed of eight layers. The
layer at the bottom was very thin, of hair and grass, the one above it
being a solid heap of mud more than three inches thick, then a thin one
again, and so on until the swallows' nest at the top made the eighth.
You can easily see that the linnets' soft nest would be crushed down by
the great weight of mud heaped on it, and would thus make only the thin
layers as stated. It was plain that no such scene could be witnessed the
next year, for the successive building of the nests had heaped up the
mass until it almost touched the roof above it. In fact, the swallow had
barely room to creep into her nest and out of it. I saw her come and go,
and each time her back rubbed against the shingles. When she had settled
down on her eggs, she had, of course, a little more free space.
Now what do you say? Did not both the linnets and the swallows know the
old nest, and did not they consider that it belonged to them
individually, and that they were determined to occupy it because it
belonged to them, and then to fight for the possession of it if
necessary? Otherwise why should the linnets in 1872 have persisted in
building on the top of the swallows' nest? There were other posts all
around the veranda, each one of them just as good as that, so far as I
could judge, and then, too, that one was spoiled by having the nest
already there, for the linnets are not in the habit of building where
another nest has occupied the place. But no: that spot was theirs, and
they had been unjustly driven from it the year before, and they seemed
to consider that, though it was not so convenient as a dozen other
places close at hand, justice to themselves required that they should
assert their ownership. No birds with spirit could allow themselves to
be despoiled of their rightful possession in any such manner. Then
presently came the swallows, with just the same feelings, and the battle
followed.
But this brings in another question. Do birds choose their mates for
life? We have always thought that it was not so--that their partnership
lasted for but a single year. We see, however, that when the swallows
returned, they plunged into the conflict as though they both understood
it, and were interested in the ownership. It may be, however, that the
female came alone, and when she found that her house was occupied, she
said nothing until she had selected a mate, and then she informed him
that before any housekeeping could be commenced he must be prepared to
fight for his "altars and his fires," for his "hearth and home," and
so, like a dutiful husband, he toed the mark at once, and the battle
commenced.
In whatever light you look at it, it is a remarkable example of the
intelligence of birds, and of their power of communicating ideas to one
another. I give you my assurance that the story is absolutely true, just
as I have written it.
[Illustration: "ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP."]