Plume and go, ye summer folk
Fly from Winter’s killing stroke,
Bluebird, Sparrow, Thrush, and Swallow,
Wild Geese from the marshes follow,
Wood-dove from the lonesome hollow
Rise and follow South—all follow!
Now I greet ye, hardy tribes,
Snowy Owl, and night-black Crow,
Starling with your wild halloo;
Blue Jay screaming like the wind,
In the tree-tops gaunt and thinned;
You in summer called “Bob-white”
(Voice of far-off fields’ delight).
Now among the barnyard brood
Fearless, searching for your food;
Nuthatch, Snowbird, Chickadee,
Downy tapper on the tree;
And you twittering Goldfinch drove
(Masked in gray) that blithely rove
Where the herby pastures show
Tables set above the snow:
And ye other flocks that ramble,
Where the red hop trims the bramble,
Or the rowan-berry bright
And the scarlet haw invite—
Winter comrades, well betide ye,
Friendly trunk and hollow hide ye,
Hemlock branches interlace,
When the Northern Blast gives chase.
—Edith M. Thomas.
These were the hard days for birds and people both, days of sleet and
ice, when the snow seemed to chill and bind the trees down, instead of
winding lovely draperies about them as it did at first.
Toward the end of January the cedar-berries gave out, and the juicy
blackberries of the honeysuckle, that clings to everything that will
hold the vines, became watery and poor; most of the seed-stalks of weeds
were beaten down, and it was “mighty poor picking for birds,” as Sarah
Barnes expressed the matter.
The lunch-counter in Birdland received a fresh supply of food every
morning, and yet, sometimes before dark, every grain had been eaten, and
the generous lumps of suet picked to shreds. The feeding-stations for
the game-birds all had visitors, and the boys, who kept them supplied,
saw, in their walks, many winter birds that they never before knew came
so near to the cultivated farmland.
Acting on the general idea of feeding and sheltering birds that now
seemed to pervade the air of Fair Meadows township, many people
scattered food on the roofs of their sheds, and made openings in their
corn-stacks, or left a window of the hay-barn ajar, where birds might
seek a shelter.
All through the month the resident winter birds were seen at intervals.
Of course, there would be many days when no birds would appear, and it
would seem as if they had all gone, but let the sun shine, and the least
breath of wind blow from the southeast, and they would come out of the
near-by shelter where they had been hiding.
The orchard lunch-counter was the one place where, at least, a single
bird was always to be found, and, at times, as many as half a dozen
different kinds would be seen feeding peaceably together.
Gray Lady kept a list of all the birds that the children reported, and
sometimes it was quite a puzzle for her to name a bird, unknown to the
discoverer, from the description that was brought of it. For to see the
chief points of a bird at a glance is difficult enough in itself, but to
put them into exact words seemed sometimes impossible.
When Dave, on his return from a sleigh-ride to the shore, said that he’d
seen a “big round-headed Owl sitting on a stump in the salt meadows, and
it looked as if it had sat out all night in a snow-squall,” Gray Lady
knew at once that he had seen one of the Arctic or Snowy Owls that
occasionally drift down from the North on a short visit, and that it was
on the lookout for a meal of meadow-mice or other little gnawers.
But when Bobbie, who went to the same location, reported that he had
seen “a flock of birds that were sort of Sparrows with a yellow breast,
and a black mark on it, and long ears,” it took a little time and many
questions before she found that the birds were visiting Horned Larks,
with pinkish brown backs, a black crescent on the breast, and a black
bar across the forehead, that, extending around the sides of the head,
forms two little tufts, or feather horns. For the rest, the throat and
neck were dull yellow, and the underparts white streaked with black.
These birds were little known. They only made flying visits, and gave
merely a call-note, keeping their beautiful song, during which they soar
in the air like the Sky-lark, for their nesting-haunts in the far North.
Gray Lady’s ingenuity was taxed to its utmost, however, when one
Saturday morning little Clary came to the playroom, her face aglow, and
said that she had seen “a brown Blue Jay with a yellow tail and red
wings; not just one, but a whole family.”
For a moment Gray Lady was quite at a loss how to proceed; yellow tail
and red wings were surely startling; then she saw that there must be
some point about the bird that reminded the child of a Jay other than
its colour.
“How did this bird look like a Jay, Clary?” she asked.
“In the head,” came the prompt reply; “it had feathers on top that moved
up and down, the way a Jay’s does, and it was dark in the nose.”
On thinking over the winter birds that had a crest of feathers that
could be raised or lowered, she realized that the Cedar-bird had such a
one, also a black beak, and a black eye-stripe that made it look “dark
in the nose,” but yellow tail and red wings it certainly did not have,
merely a narrow yellow band on the tail and small, waxen, coral-red tips
to some of the wing quills. However, taking half a dozen coloured
pictures from one of the portfolios that she kept at hand to settle
disputed points, she spread them in front of the little girl, who,
without a moment’s hesitation, picked out the Cedar-bird, or Cedar
Waxwing, as it is properly called from its coral wings-tips.
These are the resident birds on the list that Gray Lady kept of those
the children saw during that winter:—
Bob-white
Ruffed Grouse
Red-shouldered Hawk
Meadowlark
Long-eared Owl
Screech Owl
Downy Woodpecker
Robin
Bluebird
Song Sparrow
White-breasted Nuthatch
Red-tailed Hawk
Sharp-shinned Hawk
Barred Owl
Cedar Waxwing
Hairy Woodpecker
Flicker
Blue Jay
Crow
American Goldfinch
Chickadee
Herring Gull
This is a list of the visiting birds, that nest in the far North and
drift southward, either in search of food or driven on the course of the
storm clouds; and before February came, with its longer afternoons, the
children could name them all, either from sight or from the pictures in
Gray Lady’s portfolio.
_Horned Lark._ (See above.)
_Snowflake._ A bird of the Sparrow tribe, winter plumage soft
brown and white, colour of dead leaves and snow, black feet and
bill. Comes in flocks to feed on weed seeds, especially of snowy
winters.
_Redpoll._ Of the Sparrow tribe and the size of the Chippy.
Dusky gray and brown, with long, pointed wings and short, forked
tail. _Head, neck, and rump washed with crimson!_ A canary-like
call-note.
_The Two Crossbills._ (See page 252.)
_Snowy Owl._ (See page 295.)
_Tree-sparrow._ (See page 249.)
_White-throated Sparrow._ The most beautiful of all our
Sparrows; a plump handsome bird. _White throat and crown
stripes._ Back striped with black, bay, and whitish. Rump light
olive-brown. Bay edgings to wings, and two white cross-bars;
underparts gray. _Yellow spot before eye._ Female, crown brown,
markings less distinct. Song, sweet and plaintive
“Pee-a-peabody, peabody, peabody!”
Abundant migrant; also a winter resident from September to May.
_Junco._ (See page 250.)
_Myrtle Warbler._ (See page 250.)
_Winter Wren._ (See page 247.)
_Golden-crowned Kinglet._ (See page 249.)
_Brown Creeper._ (See page 184.)
_Northern Shrike._ A roving winter resident with Hawklike
habits, Hawklike in flight: called “Butcher-bird,” from its
meat-eating habits.
Length: 9-10.50 inches.
Male and Female: Powerful head, neck, and blackish beak
with hooked point. Above bluish ash, lighter on the rump
and shoulders. Wide black bar on each side of the head
from the eye backward. Below, light gray with a brownish
cast, broken on breast and sides by waved lines of
darker gray. Wings and tail black, edged and tipped with
white. Large white spot on wings, white tips and edges
to outer quills of tail. Legs bluish black.
A call-note, and in its breeding-haunts a sweet,
warbling song.
In common with all winter birds, its movements are guided by the food
supply, and if severe cold and heavy snows drive away the small birds,
and bury the mice upon which it feeds, the Shrike must necessarily rove.
Grasshoppers, beetles, other large insects, and field-mice are staple
articles of its food in seasons when they are obtainable; in fact, next
to insects, mice constitute the staple article of its diet; and
protection should be accorded it on this account, even though we know
the Shrike chiefly as the killer of small birds. The victims are caught
by two methods: sneaking,—after the fashion of Crows,—and dropping
upon them suddenly from a height, like the small Hawks. In the former
case the Shrikes frequent clumps of bushes, either in open meadows or
gardens, lure the little birds by imitating their call-notes, and then
seize them as soon as they come within range. They often kill many more
birds than they can possibly eat at a meal, and hang them on the spikes
of a thorn or on the hooks of a cat-brier in some convenient spot, until
they are needed, in the same manner as a butcher hangs his meat; and
from this trait the name “Butcher-bird” was given them.
* * * * *
During some of these wintry days of meeting, questions and answers about
the birds seen filled the time, and then Gray Lady read to them from
some of her many books what people living in other places had said and
thought of these same familiar birds. Besides the stories, she told them
many things about the building of a bird, its bones, its feathers, the
reasons why of the various kinds of feet and bills, the grouping of
race, tribe, and family that both divide the bird world and at the same
time bind it together; for she very well knew that when spring came with
its procession of songsters, the children would be so eager to listen,
see, follow, and learn the names of the living birds that they would not
have patience to listen to the dry details.