A SILVER-TONGUED FAMILY
THE BLUEBIRD
"It will be difficult for you to mistake this little blue-coal for any
other bird. He is 'true blue,' which is as rare a color among birds its
it is among flowers. He is the banner-bearer of Birdland also, and
loyally floats the tricolor from our trees and telegraph wires; for,
besides being blue, is he not also red and white?"
[Illustration: Bluebird.]
"To be sure, his breast is perhaps more brown than red, but when the
spring sun shines on his new feathers, as he flits to and fro, it is
quite bright enough to be called red. All sorts and conditions of people
love and respect the Bluebird; all welcome him to their gardens and
orchards. The Grossest old farmer, with his back bent double by
rheumatism, contrives to bore some auger holes in an old box and fasten
it on the side of the barn, or set it up on the pole of his hayrick;
while the thrifty villager provides a beautiful home for his blue-backed
pets--a real summer hotel, mounted on a tall post above a flower-bed,
with gables and little windows under the eaves.
"Why does this bird receive so much attention? There are many others
with gayer plumage and more brilliant songs. It is because the Bluebird
is gentle, useful, brave, and faithful under adversity, while he and the
Robin are the first two birds that children know by name. We must live
in a very cold, windswept part of the country not to have some of these
birds with us from March until Thanksgiving day, and then, when a week
has passed and we have not seen a single one, we say winter has come in
earnest. When weeks go by and our eyes grow tired of the glare of the
snow, or our hearts discouraged at the sight of bare lifeless trees and
stretches of brown meadow--suddenly, some morning, we hear a few liquid
notes from an old tree in a sunny spot. All eagerness, we go out to see
if our ears have deceived us. No, it is a Bluebird! He is peeping into
an old Woodpecker's hole and acting as if he had serious thoughts of
going to housekeeping there, and did not intend waiting to move in until
May-day either. When you see him you may know that, though there is
still ice on the water-trough and on the little streams, spring is only
around the corner, waiting for her friend, the sun, to give her a
little warmer invitation to join him in their old, old play of turning
the sluggish sleeping brown earth into a wonderful green garden again.
"As a Citizen the Bluebird is in every way a model. He works with the
Ground Gleaners in searching the grass and low bushes for grasshoppers
and crickets; he searches the trees for caterpillars in company with the
Tree Trappers; and in eating blueberries, cranberries, wild grapes, and
other fruits he works with the Seed Sowers also.
"So who would not welcome this bird, who pays his rent and taxes in so
cheerful a manner, and thanks you with a song into the bargain? A very
few straws are all that he asks for his housekeeping, and every time he
promises a meal for his household, scores of creeping, crawling, hopping
garden enemies are gobbled up. Then he, modest little fellow that he is,
comes to the roof of the shed and murmurs his thanks for your
hospitality, as if you and not he had done the favor; he continues to
whisper and warble about it all the way down the meadow until, having
caught another grasshopper, his mouth is too full for singing."
As the Doctor was speaking the shower cloud passed over, and the sun
burst out full upon the Bluebirds that were building by the woodshed.
"Oh, they _are_ red, white, and blue!" cried Dodo in great glee, "though
the red is a little dirty,--not so fresh and bright as the color in our
new flag."
"It is more the red of the ragged old flag they keep down in the Town
Hall--the one that has seen service," said Rap thoughtfully.
Some things to remember about the Bluebird
Length (from tip of beak over head to end of tail) seven inches.
Upper parts clear bright blue.
Throat and breast reddish earth color.
Belly white.
A Summer Citizen of the United States, and a Citizen of the milder
parts, of our country.
A member of the guilds of Ground Gleaners, Tree Trappers, and Seed
Sowers.
THE AMERICAN ROBIN
[Illustration: American Robin.]
"Another home bird, first cousin to the Bluebird, coming with it in the
spring, and often lingering through the winter in places that the
Bluebird is obliged to leave--"
"The Robin a cousin of the Bluebird!" interrupted Nat; "why, they don't
look one bit alike--how can it be, Uncle Roy?"
"I expected you to ask that question," said the Doctor. "The
relationship of bird families, like that of other animals, is based upon
a likeness in the formation of their bodies, and not upon mere size or
color. That sort of likeness proves that their ancestors of long ago
were the same, so that they are descended from one pair of very
great-great-grandparents; and that always makes cousins, you know. It
runs in the blood; thus, a cat and a tiger are blood relations; the
little coon and the great black bear are nearly akin. A tall
broad-shouldered man, with black hair and a full beard, may have a
cousin who is short and thin, with yellow hair and no beard. You see
nothing strange in this, because it is something to which you are
accustomed. But with bird families it takes the trained eye of the
student to see the likeness there really is between all birds who have
had the same ancestors, though it may be hidden under many differences
in their size, shape, color, voice, and habits.
"The Robin, like the Bluebird, is found in almost all parts of North
America. In the far Southern States, like Florida, where they take
refuge from winter storms, Robins begin to sing in chorus while the
weather in the Middle and Northern States is still so cold that it would
freeze the music before any one could hear it, even if the birds had
courage to sing. But delightful as the climate is there, where it also
provides a plentiful table of berries, these Robins break away from the
land of plenty and begin their northern journey before the first shad
dares venture up the rivers.
"On and on they go, this great army of Robins, flying in flocks of ten
and hundreds. Here and there they meet with smaller flocks, which have
been able to spend the winter in roving about not far from their nesting
places, and then there is a great deal of talking; for the Robin has a
great many ways of making remarks. Some of his numerous notes sound as
if he were asking a long list of questions; others express discontent;
then again he fumes and sputters with anger. It is easy to tell the
plump, well-fed birds, just home from the South, from those who have
been obliged to live on half rations during the northern winter.
"Before this flying army quite leaves the Southern States some of them
halt for nest-building, and then the Robin sings the best of all his
songs,--his happy, cheery melody,--all about the earth, the sky, the
sun, the tree he and his mate have chosen to build in,--a song of the
little brook where he means to get the water to wet the clay to plaster
his nest,--a ballad of the blue eggs it will hold, and the greedy little
Robins, all eyes and mouth, that will come out of them. But as he sings
something frightens him; then he cries, 'quick! quick! quick!' and
hurries away in a rather clumsy fashion. If any one could understand the
meaning of all that the Robin says and put it into our words, we should
be able to make a very good dictionary of the language of Birdland."
"I've noticed how different his songs are," said Rap eagerly, "and how
some of his ways are like the Bluebird's, too. We had a Robin's nest
last season in the grape vine over the back door, and I used to watch
them all the time--" and then Rap hesitated in great confusion, for fear
that he had been impolite in stopping the Doctor.
"Tell us about your Robins, my boy; we shall like to hear the story.
Don't look so troubled, but say exactly what you saw them do."
Rap wriggled about a little, then settled himself comfortably with his
chin resting on the top of his crutch, and began: "It was the year that
my leg was hurt. The miller was chopping a tree and it fell the wrong
way on me and squeezed my leg so that it couldn't be mended; so I was
around home all the time. It was a terribly cold day when the Robins
came back, along in the first part of March. If it hadn't been for the
Robins, anybody would have thought it was January. But in January we
don't have big Robin flocks about here, only just twos and threes that
pick round the alder bushes and old honeysuckles for berries. It was
such a cold day that the clothes froze to the line so that mother
couldn't take them off, and we didn't know what to do. Well, we were
looking at them, mother and I, when a big Robin flew out of the pine
trees and hopped along the clothes-line as if he wanted to speak to us.
'Maybe he's hungry,' said mother. 'I guess he is,' said I; 'the ground
is too hard for worms to come out, so he can't get any of them. Can't I
give him some of the dried huckleberries?' We always dry a lot every
summer, so as to have pies in winter. Mother said I might, so I
scattered some on the snow under the pine trees, and we went in the
house and peeped out of the kitchen window. At first the Robins
chattered and talked for a while, looking squint-eyed at the berries,
but then the bird that came on the clothes-line started down and began
to eat."
"How did you know that Robin from all the others?" asked Dodo.
"He had lost the two longest quills out of his right wing, and so he
flew sort of lop-sided," said Rap readily. "As soon as he began the
others came down and just gobbled; in two minutes all the berries were
gone, but the birds stayed round all the same, hinting for more. We
hadn't many berries left, so mother said, 'Try if they will eat meal.' I
mixed some meal in a pan with hot water and spread it in little puddles
on the snow. The Robins acted real mad at first, because it wasn't
berries, but after a while one pecked at it and told the others it was
all right, and then thirty Robins all sat in a row and ate that meal up,
the same as if they were chickens." Here Rap paused and laughed at the
thought of the strange sight.
"Pretty soon after that the snow melted, and by April Robins were
building around in our yard, in the maples by the road, and all through
this orchard. One day I noticed some little twigs and a splash of mud on
our back steps, and when I looked up I saw that something was building a
nest in the crotch of the old grape vine. 'That's a queer place for a
nest,' I said to myself, 'not a leaf on the vine and my window right on
top. I wonder what silly bird is doing it.'
"Flap, and my Robin with the broken feathers came along with his mouth
full of sticks; but when he saw me he dropped them and went over on the
clothes-pole, and called and scolded like everything. Then I went up to
my window and looked through the blind slats. Next day the nest was
done. It wasn't a pretty nest--Robins' never are. They are heavy and
lumpy, and often fall off the branches when a long rain wets them. This
one seemed quite comfortable inside, and was lined with soft grass.
"Mrs. Robin looked like her husband, but I could tell the difference;
for she didn't sit in the pines and sing, and her breast wasn't so red.
When the nest was done, she laid a beautiful egg every day until there
were four, and then one or the other of the birds sat on the eggs all
the time. Robins' eggs are a queer color--not just blue or quite green,
but something between, all of their own."
"Yes," said Olive, "it is their own color, and we give it a name; for it
is called 'robin's-egg blue' in our books."
"The old birds had been sitting for ten days, and it was almost time for
the little ones to come out, when one night there was a great wind and
the grape vine, that was only fastened up with bits of leather and
tacks, fell down in a heap. In the morning there was the nest all in a
tangle of vine down on the ground. The vine must have swung down, for it
hadn't tipped the nest over, and the mother bird was sitting on it
still.
"'That will never do,' said my mother; 'the first cat that strays by
will take the poor thing.' While I was looking at it mother went in the
house and came back with a little tin pail. She picked some branches and
tied them round it so that the tin didn't show. 'Now,' she said to the
Robin, the same as if it understood our language, 'get up and let me see
if I can't better you a bit.' Then the bird left the nest, making a
great fuss, and crying 'quick! quick!' as if all the woods were afire.
"'Oh, mother!' I cried, 'the eggs will get cold. What are you taking the
nest away for? It was better to chance the cats.'
"'Don't you fret, sonny,' said she; 'your mammy has some common sense if
she don't trampoose all over creation watching birds.' And before I
understood what she was doing she had put the nest in the top of the
tin pail and hung it on a hook under the shed roof. 'Now,' she said,
'Mrs. Robin, try how you like that!'
"I watched and after a few minutes first one Robin flew under the shed
and then the other, and the next thing one was sitting on the pail-nest
as nice as you please!"
"Did the birds hatch?" asked Olive, Nat, and Dodo, almost in the same
breath.
"Yes, they hatched all right; and then I noticed something funny. The
backs and breasts of the little birds were almost naked when they were
hatched, and their eyes closed tight; but when the feathers came they
were spotted on their backs and breasts and not plain like their
parents. Do you know," added Rap after a little pause, "that when
Bluebirds are little, their backs and breasts are speckled too, though
afterward they moult out plain? So there is something alike about
Bluebirds and Robins that even a boy can see."
"You are quite right," said the Doctor; "the 'something alike, that even
a boy can see,' is one of the things that shows these birds to be
cousins, as I told you. Every one of the Silver-tongued Family is
spotted when it gets its first feathers. It is strange," he added in an
undertone, as if talking to himself, "how long it took some of us to
find out what any bright boy can see."
The American Robin--Remember This
Length ten inches.
Upper parts slate color with a tinge of brown.
Head black on top and sides, with white spots around the eyes. Tail
black with white spots on the tips of some feathers.
Under parts brick-red, except the black and white streaked throat and
under the tail.
A Citizen of the United States and Canada.
A Ground Gleaner, Tree Trapper, and Seed Sower.
THE WOOD THRUSH
One pleasant evening after tea, but before sunset, the Doctor sent Nat
to ask Rap to come up to the Farm, as they were all going for a walk
through the orchard and the river woods.
"What birds will you tell us about to-night?" asked Dodo, as they stood
in the porch waiting for the boys.
"Cousins of the Bluebird--more cousins--but really the heads of the
Silver-tongued Family. They wear much plainer clothes than the Bluebirds
and Robins, on their olive or russet-brown backs and light-tinted,
dark-spotted breasts, but have the most beautiful voices in all
Birdland. The names of these wonderful singers, who make a musical
quartette, are Wood Thrush, Hermit Thrush, Wilson's Thrush, and
Olive-backed Thrush; but you will have to keep both your eyes and ears
open to learn to tell them apart and name them rightly."
"There has been the beautifullest bird singing in the big elm on the
lawn for more than an hour, but I don't know his name and I want to ever
so much. Do you think he might be one of these Thrushes? He is singing
now, Uncle Roy." And Dodo began tugging at the Doctor's hand, to lead
him down the steps. They saw Nat and Rap coming along the road, and the
Doctor motioned to them to walk quietly, so that Dodo's bird might
continue his song.
"What is it? What are you waiting for?" whispered Nat. "A bird? Where?"
The bird answered Nat's question itself, telling him by its song in what
part of the tree it was perching. "Hea-r-me, Hea-r-me," it called; and
then followed a short song as if two musical instruments were playing
together. The bird seemed well pleased with his performance, and
perfectly unconscious of the group of House People who were listening to
him; for he repeated the strain over and over again.
"It's almost as big as a Robin," said Dodo.
"But its breast is speckled in big spots," said Nat. "I wish I could see
the top of it. There, it has flown to a lower branch, and its back is
kind of rusty-brown. What is its name, Uncle Roy?"
"Rap knows, I'm sure," said the Doctor.
"It's a Wood Thrush," said Rap. "People call them Wood Robins, too,
sometimes. I think that one, or his brother, has a nest in the spruce
back of your house."
"Uoli-uoli, a-e-o-lee-lee!" sang the Thrush; and as the children became
accustomed to the song they noticed that six or eight other
Silver-tongues were singing the same tune in different parts of the
orchard and garden. It sounded as if the evening breeze were stirring
Aeolian harps.
"Why is he called the Wood Thrush?" asked Rap. "I've hardly ever seen
him in the real woods--he loves to be in gardens and orchards. The trees
round the miller's house are full of them."
"It is not easy to say why he was named so," said the Doctor, "unless
it is because he builds his nest higher up in trees than most of his
Thrush kin. I am very glad you have had a chance to hear and see him at
the same time; for he is one of the home birds you must make a place for
in your very inside heart, with the Bluebird and Robin, though he does
not return from his winter outing until after these two have begun
nesting."
[Illustration: Wood Thrush.]
"When he comes we are sure not only that it is Spring, but that Spring
is in a pleasant, good-natured mood--that she is through with the
tempers and crying fits she suffers from in March and April, and is
kissing the buds of the early blossoms of May, coaxing them to open
their eyes. When you see the first Wood Thrush hopping among last year's
leaves, you may look for jack-in-the-pulpit's pointed nose and green and
purple hood.
"As soon as this Thrush makes up his mind to settle in a certain place,
he calls a mate to him with his thrilling song and begins
house-building. From this time until he moults, late in July, every one
in his vicinity may enjoy a free concert morning and evening, and at
intervals during the day. Sometimes in cloudy weather he even sings at
noon--a time when birds are most likely to be silent.
"In gratitude for what we owe him for his music and his work in the
guilds, we must be patient with him when he secures the first ripe
cherries from the top of the tree, before we House People know that they
are even red. For every cherry and strawberry he bites, he pays ten
times over by swallowing a hundred wicked hungry worms and bugs that eat
everything and do no work in return. But House People are very blind
about some things, and often act as if they had only one eye apiece,
like the Cyclopes. We see one of these darling birds take a little
fruit; we see more fruit with holes in it, and think that birds have
done the damage, though a wasp or hornet may be the guilty party; and
then we often say, 'What a nuisance those birds are!'
"But all the rest of the growing year, when these same birds toil from
sunrise until sunset, to clear away insect pests and give us a better
crop of fruit next year, we do not notice it. You children, however,
will have no such excuse for keeping one eye shut when you know Citizen
Bird as he really is."
"How late at night does the Wood Thrush sing?" asked Nat. "Does he never
sleep?"
"Oh, yes, he goes to sleep when it is really dark, but at this nesting
season the night in Birdland is very short; some of the feathered people
are stirring at three o'clock, and by four all thrifty birds have
dressed themselves to go out marketing for breakfast."
"The Veeries are singing down by the river," said Olive to her father;
"perhaps we had better go there before it grows dark."
"Veeries? Is that what you call those birds?" asked Rap. "I never knew
their name, so I called them 'sunset birds,' to myself."
"Veeries, yes, but called Wilson's Thrush, too," said the Doctor;
"because this kind of Thrush was named after Alexander Wilson, who wrote
a description of it, and published a colored plate of it, seventy-five
years ago. But your name of 'sunset bird' is very good, my lad, for they
sing best about twilight. We will go down to the river path and hear
them, though you cannot see them very clearly now."
The Wood Thrush
The largest of our Thrushes except the Robin--length about eight inches.
Upper parts warm brown, like ground cinnamon; brightest on the head, but
a little greenish on the tail.
Under parts plain white in the middle, but boldly spotted with black all
over the breast and along the sides.
Eye-ring whitish.
A Summer Citizen of the eastern United States, and a Ground Gleaner,
Tree Trapper, and Seed Sower.
WILSON'S THRUSH
Commonly called VEERY from the sound of one of its notes
"How still it is here!" said Dodo, as they walked along the footpath
that wound in and out among the trees toward the edge of the river.
Swallows were skimming close to the water, which sang a little song to
itself as it ran along.
"What do you think those birds are doing, Rap," said Nat; "looking at
themselves in the water or playing tag?"
[Illustration: Veery.]
"They are Barn Swallows, who catch flies and little gnats and things
close down over the water. Hear them talking and laughing!" But the
Swallows really seemed to be playing some sort of game as they circled
about, every now and then turning sharply and giving little rippling
cries.
The Doctor halted under a beech tree that spread its branches over a
great mossy circle, seating himself on an old log that had been washed
down the river and lay on the ground. For a minute the Veeries were
silent; then from the tree over his head one sang a short tune--two
sentences in a high key, then two a little lower and softer, like an
echo.
"It is different from any other bird-song," said Olive, "and every
spring when it comes it seems as lovely as the first time I heard it."
"Is that Veery only visiting here, or will he build a nest?" asked Nat.
"He will build; and though he is so shy that we do not see him as often
as the Wood Thrush, his song makes him one of the best-known of the
family. He makes his home from the Middle States, east and west, all
over the country, up to the far North; but as insects are his chief food
he does not come as early or stay as late in his summer home as the
Hermit Thrush, and always tries to reach the warmer countries before the
trees are wholly bare and there is danger of snow."
"Do they live up in the trees where they sing?" asked Dodo, after they
had listened to the Veeries, who were then singing on both sides of the
river.
"No, on the contrary, he is one of the Ground Thrushes, who builds his
nest close to the ground in such places as that bit of brushwood
opposite; and as he spends most of his time about home we seldom see
him, even in places like this where many pairs live. But we do not need
to see a Veery to know of his presence if we once learn his song by
heart, because we shall remember it as long as our hearts beat."
The children sat silent for a long time, looking up through the trees at
the coming of the night. Then Dodo nestled close to Olive and whispered,
"I think that Veery is singing his prayers."
Wilson's Thrush--Veery
Length seven and a half inches.
Upper parts warm brown all over, not so bright as the Wood Thrush is on
the head, and not the least bit greenish on the tail.
Breast and throat deep cream color, finely specked with brown on the
upper part. Belly white. No white ring around eye.
A Summer Citizen of the United States east of the plains.
A Ground Gleaner, Tree Trapper, and Seed Sower.
THE HERMIT THRUSH
"When we return to the house," said the Doctor, "I will show you the
Veery and Hermit Thrush also; for whether or not you will hear the
Hermit sing will depend very much upon what part of North America you
live or travel in, and this bird's song is its chief claim to fame.
Through all the southern and middle parts of the States he only pays
visits during the fall, winter, and early spring. At these seasons he
rarely sings, and spends his time in hopping about the underbrush,
searching for insects. In spring and autumn you will see him about the
magnolia trees in your yard or garden, or in the hedges along roads and
the edges of light woods, where wild berries are plentiful. The name of
Hermit would naturally make you expect to find a very shy bird, but he
is not--only he likes his own company in secret places. When on his
travels, unlike most birds, and like all good children in story books,
he is oftener seen than heard. At this time you must look for him on or
near the ground, for he is a famous Ground Gleaner.
"At first you may mistake him for a Wood Thrush. But look again--he is
smaller; the spots on the breast are more joined together like stripes;
the rump and tail are a very _reddish_-brown like ripe chestnuts,
different from the _greenish_-brown on the back and head. You will be
sure to notice this, for the Hermit jerks his tail about when he feeds
on the ground, giving a little warning call that sounds like 'chek!
chek!'"
[Illustration: Hermit Thrush]
"If you should happen to spend the summer among the mountains of New
York, New England, or northern Michigan, and see the Hermit in his
nesting home, you would find him quite another character, true to his
name. There he is shy--or perhaps cautious would be a better word to
describe the way in which he keeps the secrets of his precious nest. He
loves the little moist valleys between the pine-clad mountains, where a
bit of light woods is made an island by the soft bog-moss that surrounds
it. There, feeling quite secure, he makes his nest upon the ground, of
moss, leaves, pine-needles, and other such litter; and the eggs that it
holds are very nearly the color of the Robin's, without any spots.
"He goes a little way from home, a bit up the mountain side, so that
House People and squirrels, both of whom are sometimes cruel enough to
steal eggs, may not know exactly where he lives; and then he begins to
sing. His brother Thrushes have louder voices and know more brilliant
songs; but when the Hermit reaches his high notes, that sound as clear
as the music of a mountain brook, a strange feeling will suddenly come
over you. You will forget that you belong to House People and that he is
a bird; you will think he is telling you something in words that you
understand--a message that makes you think about pure and holy things.
The songs of some birds please the ear alone, but this little brown
Hermit sings to your conscience. Some call him the Spirit of the Pines.
If, however, you never hear his song you can remember that the Hermit is
the brown bird with the rusty tail and speckled breast that hops among
your bushes in spring and fall. You must be very kind to him, and tell
your pet cat about him, warning her never to touch him."
The Hermit Thrush
Length about seven inches.
Upper parts an even olive-brown, except the tail, which is rich
reddish-brown, different from the rest.
Throat and breast light buff, with black spots that run together in
chains.
Belly white. A yellowish ring around the eye.
A Summer Citizen of the northern parts of eastern North America,
spending the winter south of its summer home.
A Ground Gleaner, Tree Trapper, and Seed Sower.
THE OLIVE-BACKED THRUSH
"Children who live where the Hermit Thrush sings will also have a good
chance to hear the Olive-back give his rapid bubbling music; for, like
the Hermit, he prefers a cool summer climate, and thinks that the
mountains agree with his health much better than the seashore. For this
reason he makes his home all through the Northern States, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, following the mountains southward, and making
long summer excursions to Labrador, Hudson Bay, and even Alaska."
[Illustration: Olive-backed Thrush.]
"What stories of wild beasts he might tell us if he would! For he looks
out of his nest of grass, moss, bark, and rootlets, to see moose
browsing among the young trees, and hears black bears growling. His bird
companions are Snowbirds, Horned Larks, Crossbills, and Pine Grosbeaks;
and he trembles lest the Great Gray Owl shall find his nestlings.
"But much as he loves cool weather for nest-building, he tires of it
when the first frost touches the valleys, and snow caps the tops of his
favorite mountains; for then his insect food grows scarce. So he changes
his summer habits; leaving the guild of Ground Gleaners, and becoming a
Seed Sower, he follows the sun toward the tropics, where, likely enough,
he tells the alligators long tales of northern lands and assures the
water-moccasin that, big snake as he is, the mountain rattlesnake is
quicker at biting.
"This Olive-backed Thrush you may _hear_ more often than see--he is a
will-o'-the-wisp for shyness, whether on his journeys or about home. But
remember three things about him: his back is evenly olive (if you do not
know what this dark-greenish color is, look at the olives you have on
the table, or that stand in the tall glass jars in the grocer's window,
for if you wish to study birds you must learn to distinguish this color
from brown or the bright green); he has a cream-yellow ring round his
eye; and lastly, his black-speckled throat and breast are dull
yellowish."
"Won't you let us go up to the wonder room now and see all these Thrush
cousins in a row?" asked Nat, when the Doctor had finished describing
them.
"We will go up to the house and you may take a look at them, but I want
you to be also able to name them from what I tell you; for when you see
a bird out of doors you will seldom be able to have a stuffed one with
which to compare it.
"Now we will make a procession of these cousins,"
said the Doctor, as they reached his study. He then
opened a glass case, took out six birds, and stood them
on the window-sill. "See, this is the way they go
arm in arm when they walk in the great procession of
Bird families:
"The Bluebird and the Robin;
"The Wood Thrush and the Veery;
"The Hermit and the Olive-back.
"Rap, my boy, look at each one and see if you can
remember some of the differences between them. Now
shut your eyes and think.
"What has the Bluebird?"
"A blue back and a red and white breast; it is the flag bird."
"The Robin?"
"A brick-red breast and dark back."
"The Wood Thrush?"
"A rusty-brown back, the brightest on the head, and a little greenish on
the tail."
"The Veery?"
"An even light-brown back, the same from head to tail."
"The Hermit?"
"A greenish-brown back, much redder on the rump and tail, like a
chestnut."
"The Olive-back?"
"An even greenish-brown back, the color of olives all over."
"And the under parts of the last four--what general color are they?"
"From white to buff, with different sized and shaped dark markings. The
spots on the Wood Thrush are the roundest and blackest; those on the
Veery are the smallest, lightest, and most on the throat; on the Hermit
they are longer and run together more like stripes; and those on the
Olive-back are most like the Hermit's."
The Olive-backed Thrush
Length about seven inches--the same as the Hermit.
Upper parts an even olive color all over.
Under parts cream-yellowish, whiter on the belly, the throat and breast
spotted with black.
A yellowish eye-ring, like the creamy color of the breast.
A Summer Citizen of the mountains of the northern United States.
A Tree Trapper and Ground Gleaner.