A MIDSUMMER EXCURSION
It was that wonderful week after the middle of June. The week that holds
the best of everything; the longest days of the whole fly-away year; the
biggest strawberries and the sweetest roses. Everything at its height;
birds in full song; bees in the flowers; children in hammocks under the
trees, and a Wise Man humming happily to himself as he breathed it all
in.
"I don't think that anything nicer than this can happen," said Nat,
swinging so hard in his hammock that he rolled out into the long grass.
"It doesn't seem as if it _could_" answered Dodo; "only here at Orchard
Farm there is so much niceness you never can tell what is the very
nicest."
The Wise Man laughed to himself, and then whistled an imitation of the
White-throated Sparrow's call--at which sound Dodo promptly rolled out
of her hammock and bumped into Nat, who was still lying in the grass;
then both the children sat up and listened.
"All day--whittling--whittling--whittling," whistled the notes.
"You ought to be further north building your nest," said Nat. "Don't you
know that, Mr. Peabody?"
"It's Uncle Roy!" cried Dodo, spying him back of the apple-tree perch.
"How would you like to go down to the seashore to-morrow, little
folks?"
"There!" exclaimed Dodo; "you see there is more niceness yet!"
"I suppose by that you mean 'yes,'" laughed the Doctor. "Olive and I
have planned to take the six-seated surrey, with a hamper of good things
to eat, and drive down to the sandy shore where the river broadens into
salt water. There is a house on the bay where we can have our dinner,
and the meadows and marshes are full of birds--don't quite smother me,
Dodo! Then in the cool of the afternoon we can return and have a picnic
supper at some pretty place on the way, for to-morrow night the moon is
full!"
"Can Rap go with us--for he hardly ever gets down to the shore?"
"Certainly!"
"How far is it?" asked Nat.
"About fifteen miles by the road, though not more than ten in a straight
line."
"Are the birds different down there?"
"Some of them are; there is a great colony of Blackbirds I want you to
see, for our next family is a very interesting one. It contains a
harlequin, a tramp, a soldier, a tent-maker, a hammock-maker, and a
basket-maker; and we shall probably see them all, sooner or later, but
certainly one or two of them to-morrow.
"No, I won't tell you a word about them now. But go down and invite Rap,
and tell him we will call for him by half-past six o'clock in the
morning, because we must have time to drive slowly, stop where we
please, and use our eyes." Early next morning the party set out. Five
happy children--the youngest eight and the oldest fifty-eight--started
from Orchard Farm behind a pair of comfortable white horses that never
wore blinkers or check-reins. These big members of the party were human
enough to look around as the children scrambled into the surrey, and
then prick up their ears as if they knew the difference between a picnic
and a plough, and were happy accordingly.
They trotted down the turnpike a mile, and then turned into a cross-road
bordered by hay-fields almost ready for cutting. Olive was driving, for
she loved the old white horses. Rap, Nat, and Dodo sat in the middle
seat, and the Doctor behind.
"Please, Doctor, what is the name of the Bird family we are going to
visit?" asked Rap.
"The family of the Blackbirds and Orioles; but it has a Latin name,
_Icteridae_, when it walks in the procession."
"Listen! listen!" cried Dodo. "Oh, Olive, do stop; there's some kind of
a bird on top of those bars that is singing as if he had started and
couldn't stop, and I'm sure his voice will fly away from him in a
minute!"
Olive said "whoa" immediately.
"It's only a Bobolink!" said Rap, as the bird spread his wings and
soared into the air still singing, leaving a little stream of music
behind him, as a dancing canoe leaves a train of ripples in the water.
"It is a Bobolink, surely," said the Doctor, "and not 'only a Bobolink,'
but the very bird we should be most glad to see--the first of the
Blackbird and Oriole family--the harlequin in his summer livery."
THE BOBOLINK
(THE REED BIRD. THE RICE BIRD)
[Illustration: Bobolink.]
"Why do you call the Bobolink a 'harlequin,' Uncle Roy? What is a
harlequin?" asked Dodo.
"Don't you remember that Harlequin was the name of the man in the
pantomime we saw last winter, who wore clothes of all sorts of colors,
changed from one thing to another, and was always dancing about as if he
could not possibly keep still?" "Y-e-s, I remember," said Dodo, "but I
don't think he was a bit like this Bobolink; for that harlequin didn't
say a word, only made signs, and the Bobolink sings faster than any bird
I ever heard before."
"Yes, he sings now; but it is only for a short time. Next month he will
be dumb, and before you know it his beautiful shining black coat, with
the white and buff trimmings, will have dropped off. Then he will be
changed to dull brown like his wife, and keep as quiet as poor
Cinderella sitting in the ashes.
"Do you see any birds in that meadow of long grass?" asked the Doctor.
"I don't see any in the grass," said Rap; "but there are some Bobolinks
all about in the trees along the edges, and more of them up in the air.
Where are their nests, Doctor? I've never found a Bobolink's nest!"
"Their nests are hidden in that long grass, and their mates also.
Whoever would find them must have the patience of an Indian, the eyes of
a bird, and the cunning of a fox.
"Mrs. Bobolink finds a little hollow in the ground where the roots grow,
and rounds up a nest from the grass stalks with finer grass tops inside.
Then she so arranges the weeds and stems above her home that there is no
trace of a break in the meadow; and when she leaves the nest she never
goes boldly out by the front door or bangs it behind her, but steals off
through a by-path in the grass. When she flies out of shelter at last,
she has already run a good way off, so that, instead of telling the
watcher where her home is, she tells him exactly where it is not.
"Bob earns his living these days by singing and going to market for the
family, but he does both in a tearing hurry; for his housekeeping, like
his honeymoon, is short. He must lead his children out of the grass
before the mowers overtake him, or the summer days grow short; for then
he will have to spend some time at his tailor's before he can follow the
warm weather down South again.
"Twice a year Bob has to make the most complete change of plumage that
falls to the lot of any bird. His summer toilet is so tiresome and
discouraging that he retires into the thickest reeds to make it. Out he
comes in August, leaving his lovely voice behind with his cast-off
clothes, dressed like his wife, with hardly a word to say for himself,
as he joins the flock into which various families have united. He even
loses his name, and is called Reedbird, after his hiding-place. He grows
reckless and says to his brothers, 'What do we care? If we can't sing
any more, we can eat--let us eat and be merry still!' So they eat all
they can, and wax exceedingly fat; the gunners know this, and come after
them.
"Meanwhile, in southern lowlands the rice-fields, that have been hoed
and flooded with water all the season to make the grain grow, are
covered with tall stalks of rice, whose grains are not quite ripe, but
soft and milky like green corn.
"Some morning there is a great commotion on the plantation. 'The
Ricebirds have come!' is the cry--this being only another name for the
Bobolink.
"Out fly the field-hands, men, women, and children, waving sticks,
blowing horns, and firing off guns, to frighten the invaders away.
Fires are lighted by night to scare them, for the birds travel both
night and day. The Bobolinks do not stop for all this noise, though of
course a great many are shot, ending their lives inside a pot-pie, or
being roasted in rows of six on a skewer. But the rest fly on when they
are ready, leaving the United States behind them, and go through Florida
to Brazil and the West Indies.
"In spring, on the northward journey, the rice-fields suffer again. The
males are jolly minstrels once more, all black, white, and buff,
hurrying home to their nesting grounds. They think that rice newly sown
and sprouting is good for the voice, and stop to gobble it up in spite
of all objections.
"Their song is not easy to express in words. 'Bobolink,' from which they
take their name, is the sound most frequently heard in it; but every
bird-lover has tried to give it words, and some have written it down in
rhyming nonsense verses, like poetry. I think Mr. Lowell's are the best.
"'Ha! ha! ha! I must have my fun, Miss Silverthimble, thimble,
thimble, if I break every heart in the meadow. See! see! see!' is one
translation."
"That does sound exactly like a Bobolink," laughed Dodo; "and here is
one now, right over in that tree, so crazy to sing that he doesn't mind
us a bit."
"Kick your slipper! Kick your slipper! Temperance! Temperance!" said
Bob, as the white horses turned into the road again. "Temperance! take a
drink! go to grass, all of you!"
The Bobolink.
Length about seven inches.
Male in spring and summer: jet black with ashy-white rump and shoulders;
some light edgings on the back, wings, and tail-feathers, and a buff
patch on the back of the neck, like a cream-puff baked just right.
Female: brownish and streaky like a big Sparrow, with sharp-pointed
tail-feathers; two dark-brown stripes on the crown. Brown above, with
some black and yellowish streaks. Plain yellowish below.
In autumn and winter both sexes alike.
A Summer Citizen of the northern United States and southern Canada.
Visits all the Southern States in its journeys, but winters south of
them.
A member of the guilds of Ground Gleaners and Tree Trappers, and a good
Citizen in its nesting haunts. But on its travels through the South a
mischievous bird, who eats sprouting rice in spring and ripening rice
grains in fall.
THE ORCHARD ORIOLE
(THE BASKET-MAKER)
The sun was now well above the trees. The children laughed and talked
happily, now seeing a bird they knew, then some of the flowers that
their dear flower lady, Olive, had shown them about the Farm.
"When we know some flowers and birds, shan't we learn about the bugs and
things the birds eat, and the bees and butterflies that carry the flower
messages, Uncle Roy?"
"Yes, to be sure; and by that time there will be something else for you
to wonder about."
"Why!" cried Dodo gleefully, "if we stay here till we know all we want
it will be so long that Rap will have a beard like you, uncle, and I
shall have my hair stuck up with hairpins, and wear the long skirts that
tangle people up"--and at this they all laughed.
[Illustration: Orchard Oriole. 1. Male. 2. Female]
"What was that?" asked Nat, as a bird darted by, flashing with orange
and black.
"That's an Oriole," said Rap.
"Yes, an Oriole; but do you know what kind?" said the Doctor. "I didn't
know there was but one kind," answered Rap. "Anyway, this one makes a
long nest hanging from the end of a branch; he is a good fighter if any
one touches it, and can keep away squirrels and chipmunks like a little
man."
"There are seven different species of North American Orioles," said the
Doctor; "but you are only likely to see two of them--the hammock-maker
and the basket-maker. This one, the hammock-maker, who has just flown
by, is called the Baltimore Oriole, because George Calvert, Lord
Baltimore, on landing in this country in 1628, is said to have admired
the colors of the bird and adopted them for his coat of arms. Some
called him Fire-bird, because he is so flaming orange on some parts, and
others Hang-nest, from the way he slings his hammock.
"The plainer black and chestnut bird, who now has a nest in our own
Orchard, is the Basket-maker. As these two belong to the Blackbird and
Oriole family, we may as well have them now, though in the regular
family procession the 'tramp' walks next to the Bobolink, who is such a
vagrant himself.
"This Oriole takes his name because he was once supposed to hang his
nest chiefly in the branches of orchard trees; but he is as likely to be
found in the maples by the garden fence as anywhere else.
"He has a cheerful rolling song, as varied in its different tunes as
that of the Song Sparrow. It is not like a Robin's, or a Thrush's, or
even like Brother Baltimore's; it is perfectly original, and before
these birds leave the Orchard you must listen, to hear it for
yourselves.
"Mrs. O. Oriole is a famous weaver; her grass nest, hung
from a crotch, is one of the tidiest bits of basket-making in Birdland,
and would do credit to human hands. Yet she has only a beak for a
shuttle or darning-needle--whichever you please to call it. I think it
is most like the needle of a sewing-machine, with the eye at the point,
so that it pokes the thread through as it goes into the cloth, instead
of pulling it through with the other end."
The Orchard Oriole
Length seven inches.
Male: black; the rump, breast, belly, and lesser wing-coverts chestnut.
Round black tail with whitish tips, and some whitish on the wings.
Female: grayish-green on the upper parts, greener on the tail, with
paler bars on the wings; dull yellow on all the under parts.
The young male is like the female the first year, but a little browner
on the back; next year he has a black throat; then he patches up his
clothes till he looks like his father, all black and chestnut.
A Summer Citizen of the United States, west to the plains, north to some
parts of the Northern States and Canada, travelling entirely south of
the United States to spend the winter.
A pleasant though shy neighbor, and very good Citizen, belonging to the
Ground Gleaners, Tree Trappers, and Seed Sowers. Eats a little
cultivated fruit for dessert, and should be welcome to it.
THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE
(THE HAMMOCK-MAKER)
"The Baltimore Oriole is not so shy as his brother, and rather relies on
keeping his nest out of sight than himself out of mind. His home is a
sort of hempen hammock, only deeper and more pocket-shaped, to keep the
babies from falling out, as Nat and Dodo both did out of our hammock
yesterday."
"This nest Mrs. B. Oriole twines herself, from plant fibres, adding
strings of cotton or worsted when she has a chance to find any. She
secures it to the end of a strong supple twig, usually at a good height
from the ground, and she likes an elm tree best of all, because it is
not easy for cats or House People to climb far out on the slender
swaying branches. Up there the eggs and young are safely rocked by the
wind and sheltered by leaves. A cat may look at a king, and also at an
Oriole's nest, but the looking will not do her much good in either case.
[Illustration: Baltimore Oriole.]
"Mamma Oriole sits on the nest, which is almost
closed over her head, and keeps all safe. Though she
does not sing to House People, how do we know but
what she whispers a little lullaby like this, on stormy
nights, to her nestlings?
"Rains beat! Winds blow!
Safe the nest in the elm tree.
Days come! Nights go!
Birds at rest in the elm tree.
To-and-fro, to-a-n-d-fro,
Safe are we from every foe--
Orioles in the elm tree.
Cats come! Cats go!
Lullaby in the elm tree!
"Meanwhile B. Oriole does a great deal of work, for he is a tireless
member of the guilds of Tree Trappers and Ground Gleaners, eating hosts
of caterpillars, wireworms, and beetles. When he is very thirsty he
does, now and then, take a sip of the fruit he has helped to save, and
once in a while he may eat a few green peas. But would any one refuse a
mess of peas to a neighbor in the next house? Then why should you
begrudge a few to neighbor B. Oriole? He doubtless paid you for them
before he took them, or will do so before long.
"B. Oriole comes, north before his mate to be, and spends a few days in
fretting until she arrives. Then he sings a gladsome song, to tell her
of his pleasure, and she answers, I am sorry to say, in rather a
complaining tone; but the match is soon made. Though they are not the
sweetest-tempered birds possible, they are as quick to aid as to quarrel
with their neighbors.
"Their bright colors seem rather out of place in the family which
contains also our sombre Blackbirds, but before the leaves have fallen
both kinds of Orioles and their families start for Mexico and Central
America, where such tropical hues seem more in keeping, and where many
members of the family are quite as brilliant as those we see here."
"There goes another Oriole!" cried Nat. "What a beauty, too! I suppose
he has a nest high up in one of these elms over the road."
"Very likely, for in autumn, when the trees are bare, I have sometimes
counted a dozen Orioles' nests in this very row of elms."
"Look, Uncle Roy! Look over in that pasture! What are all those black
and brown birds walking round after the cows, just as chickens do?" said
Dodo.
"Those are members of the Blackbird family called Cowbirds, because they
follow the cows as they feed, in order to pick up worms and bugs that
are shaken out of the grass. But I am sorry to say that these birds are
the vagabonds of Birdland--the tramps I told you of."
The Baltimore Oriole
Length seven and a half inches.
Male: orange flame-color, the head, neck, and upper half of back black;
wings black, edged with white; tail black and orange, about half and
half.
Female: not clear orange and black, but the former color much duller,
and the latter mixed up with gray, olive, and brown.
A Summer Citizen of the United States east of the Rocky Mountains, north
to Canada, travelling to Central America for the winter.
A worthy Citizen, fine musician, and a good neighbor. Belongs to the
guilds of Ground Gleaners, Tree Trappers, and Seed Sowers.
THE COWBIRD
(THE TRAMP)
"Cluck-see! cluck-see!" called a Cowbird, flying over the wall to join
the others in the pasture.
"What a hoarse ugly cry!" said Nat.
"Yes, but not more disagreeable than the bird's habits. I will tell you
what happens every season to some poor Warbler, Sparrow, or Vireo, on
account of this strange bird.
"A Song Sparrow builds her nest in the grass; an egg is laid, the bird
looks proudly at it, and may perhaps fly off for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, peeping and spying, along comes a Cowbird. She wants to lay
an egg, too, but has no home, because she is too lazy and shiftless to
build one. She sees the Sparrow's nest and thinks, 'Ah, hah! that bird
is smaller than I am, and cannot push my egg out; I will leave it
there!' This she does very quickly, and slips away again.
[Illustration: Cowbird]
"When the Sparrow comes home she may wonder at the strange egg, and
perhaps be able to push it out of the nest; but more likely she takes no
notice of it, as it is so much like her own, and lets it stay. If she
does this, that egg is only the beginning of trouble. It is larger than
her own, so it gets more warmth and hatches more quickly. Then the young
Cowbird grows so fast that it squeezes the little Sparrows dreadfully,
sometimes quite out of the nest, and eats so much that they are half or
wholly starved. The poor Sparrow and her mate must sometimes think what
a big child it is; but they feed it kindly until it can fly--sometimes
even after it leaves the nest. Then it goes back to join the flock its
tramp parents belong to, without so much as saying 'thank you' to its
foster parents.
"A Cowbird lays only one egg in each nest, but sometimes several visit
the same nest in succession; and then the poor Sparrow has a hard time,
indeed.
"The Yellow Warbler is one of the clever birds who will not always be
imposed upon--you remember the two-storied nest we found; and some of
the larger birds push out the strange egg. But Cowbirds are very crafty,
and usually select their victims from among the small, feeble, and
helpless."
"Does this hateful Cowbird over sing?" asked Dodo.
"Sometimes in spring he tries to; he squeaks a few notes, and makes
faces, struggling, choking, wheezing, as if he had swallowed a beetle
with hooks on its legs and was in great pain. It is a most startling
noise, but it certainly is not musical, though perhaps it pleases the
Cowbird ladies; for if they have such bad taste in other ways, they
doubtless like such harsh and inharmonious sounds."
"I don't see what makes them act so," said Rap. "I thought birds had to
build nests, or have a hole or a bit of ground or rock of their
own--that it was a law."
"So it is, my boy; but the Cowbird is one of the exceptions I told you
about; and I am glad to say there are very few."
The Cowbird
Length about seven and a half inches.
Male: very glossy black, excepting the head and neck, which are shiny
dark brown like burnt coffee.
Female: dusky brown, the lower parts lighter than the upper.
A Citizen of the entire United States.
A Ground Gleaner and a Weed Warrior, to some extent, but a bad neighbor,
a worse parent, a homeless vagabond, and an outlaw in Birdland.
ON AGAIN
The road crept down hill, passed through a village, and then into the
woods once more. The children saw a great many bird friends--Swallows,
Goldfinches, a beautiful Blue Jay, which was new to them, and some
Yellow Warblers. They stopped for half an hour in the wooded lane, where
a Chat whistled to them, a Scarlet Tanager flew hastily overhead, and
the Doctor showed them a Towhee rambling among the leaves, while a
little brownish bird kept flitting into the air and back to his perch,
calling "pewee--pe-a-r!" in a sad voice.
"What's that?" asked Rap; "it's a bird I often see near the mill,
catching flies on the wing."
"It is called the Wood Pewee," said the Doctor; "when we come back this
afternoon we will stop, and I will try to find its nest to show you. We
must go on now." As soon as they drove out of the wood, the smell of
the salt marsh came to them, and they saw that the road led between low
meadows, with wooded knolls here and there. By and by the trees grew
thinner and the grass coarser.
"Oh, I see the water!" cried Dodo, "and the little house where we are
going! Oh, look at the black birds flying over those bushes! Are those
Cowbirds too? And there are more black birds, very big ones too, going
over to the water, and more yet coming out of those stumpy little pines,
and there are some yellow pigeons down in the grass! Do stop quick,
Olive! I think there is going to be a bird clambake or a picnic down
here!" And Dodo nearly fell out of the surrey in her excitement.
"Not exactly a picnic," said the Doctor, "but what I have brought you
purposely to see. The birds flying over the alders are Red-winged
Blackbirds; those coming from the pines are Purple Grackles; the big
black ones flying overhead are Crows; and the yellow-breasted fellows
walking in the grass are Meadowlarks. We must first make the horses
comfortable, and then we can spend the day with the birds among these
marshes and meadows."
When they reached the beach the wagon track led through a hedge of
barberry bushes to a shed covered with pine boughs at the back of the
fisherman's house.
The fisherman himself came out to help them with the horses. He was a
Finlander, Olaf Neilsen, who kept boats in summer, fished, and tended
two buoy lights at the river entrance for a living. His hut stood on a
point, with the sandy beach of the bay in front of it, and the steeper
bank where the river ran on the left. All the time the water was rushing
out, out, out of the river and creeping down on the sand to make low
tide.
The children did not know it then, but they were to spend many happy
days on this beach, in company with their uncle and Olaf, during the
next two years.
The Doctor whispered something mysterious to Olaf about clams, hoes, and
"dead low water"; then he told the children to rest awhile under the
pine shelter, and hear about the Blackbirds before they went out to see
them in the meadows.
THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD
(THE HUSSAR)
"This handsome Blackbird comes early and stays late in places where he
does not linger all the year. He loves wet places, and his note is moist
and juicy, to match his nesting haunts. 'Oncher-la-ree!' he calls,
either in flying or as he walks along the ground after the fashion of
his brethren--for Blackbirds never hop, like most birds, with both feet
together, but move one after the other, just as we do.
"The Redwings are sociable birds, nesting in small colonies, and when
once settled they never seem to stray far from home. The nest is a thick
pocket hung either between reeds over the water, or fixed to the upright
stems of a bush, quite near the ground, if the place is very marshy.
"The Redwings place their nests where it would seem very easy to reach
them; but really the bushes are either surrounded by a little creek,
hidden deep in the reeds, or the ground is so marshy that neither man
nor beast can come near. That is the one reason why the males fly about
so boldly, showing their glossy uniforms with the red and gold epaulets.
When we try to visit that group of alders, where the colony lives, you
will see for yourselves how nicely it is protected.
"We welcome this Blackbird in the spring, because his is one of the
earliest bird-notes. In autumn, when he leaves the marsh and brings his
flock to the grain-fields, we do not like him quite so well; but the
Wise Men say that even then he is a good fairy in disguise, eating
cutworms, army-worms, and other injurious kinds; even when stealing a
bit of green corn, they think he clears away the worms that bore under
the husks."
[Illustration: Red-winged Blackbird.]
The Red-winged Blackbird
Length nine and a half inches.
Male: glossy black, except the scarlet shoulders, edged with buff.
Female: mixed rusty black and buff, with dull reddish-orange
shoulders--not conspicuous.
A Citizen of North America in general.
A member of the guilds of Ground Gleaners and Tree Trappers.
THE PURPLE GRACKLE
(THE CROW BLACKBIRD. RUSTY HINGE)
"What a noise those Blackbirds are making!" said Nat.
"That's nothing to the way they do early in the spring, or in autumn,
after they are through nesting," said Rap. "You should hear them. They
come to a big chestnut across the road from our house, more than a
hundred of them at once, and they creak and crackle and squeak till all
of a sudden down they go on the ground, and walk about awhile to feed."
[Illustration: Purple Grackle]
"Yes," said the Doctor, "I call them Rusty Hinges, for their voices
sound like the creaking of a door that needs oiling on the hinges. But
in spite of this they try to sing to their mates in spring, and very
funny is the sight and sound of their devotion. To judge only by their
notes, they should belong to the Croaking Birds, and not to the Singers
at all; but they have a regular music-box in the throat, only it is out
of order, and won't play tunes. Like the Redwings, they also nest in
colonies, either in old orchards, cedar thickets, or among pines; the
rest of the year, too, they keep in flocks. Except in the most northerly
States Crow Blackbirds stay all winter, like Crows themselves. They are
not particularly likable birds, though you will find they have very
interesting habits, if you take time to watch them."
"I wonder if you fed them with cod-liver oil and licorice lozenges if
their voices would be better?" asked Dodo, who had suffered from a
hoarse cold the winter before.
"I don't know what that treatment might do for them," laughed the
Doctor; "but if you will agree to feed them I will give you the oil and
licorice!" And then Dodo laughed at herself.
The Purple Grackle
Length twelve to thirteen and a half inches.
Male: glossy black, with soap-bubble tints on the head, back, tail, and
wings, and yellow iris. A long tail that does not lie flat and smooth
like that of most birds.
Female: dull blackish and smaller--not over twelve inches.
A Citizen of the Atlantic States from Florida to Massachusetts.
A good Citizen, if there are not too many in one place to eat too much
grain.
A Ground Gleaner and Tree Trapper, clearing grubs and beetles from
ploughed land.
THE MEADOWLARK
[Illustration: Meadowlark.]
"In early March the Meadowlark comes to the places that he was obliged
to leave in the winter, and cries, 'Spring o' the year! Spring o' the
y-e-a-r!' to the brown fields and icy brooks. They hear the call and
immediately begin to stir themselves.
"Then the Meadowlark begins to earn his living, and pay his taxes at the
same time, by searching the fields and pastures first for weed seeds and
then, as the ground softens, for the various grubs and beetles that
meant to do mischief as soon as they could get a chance. By the middle
of May, when the grass has grown high enough to protect him, this gentle
bird thinks he has earned a right to a home in one of the meadows he has
freed from their insect enemies, and sets about to make it. A little
colony may settle in this same field, or a single pair have a corner all
to themselves.
"A loose grass nest is arranged in a suitable spot, usually where the
grass is long enough to be drawn together over the nest like a sort of
tent. Here the mother tends the eggs and nestlings, the father always
keeping near to help her, and continually singing at his daily toil of
providing for his family as charmingly as if he were still a gay
bachelor; for Meadowlarks are very affectionate both toward each other
and their young. It is really distressing to hear the sadness of the
song of one who has lost his mate. He seems to be crying, 'Where are
you, dear?' and beseeching her to come.
"Though we frequently hear their song in the marsh meadows in autumn,
they are shyer then, and keep in flocks. At that season they grow fat,
and gunners continually worry them; but I do not think that sportsmen
often shoot these song birds. They are chiefly the victims of
thoughtless boys or greedy pot-hunters. The true sportsman is one of the
first to preserve all song birds, and give even game birds a fair chance
for life; he is thus very different from the cruel man who, simply
because he owns a gun, shoots everything, from a Robin to a Quail, and
even in the nesting season."
"Please, what is a pot-hunter?" asked Dodo.
"A pot-hunter is one who kills birds and other game at any time,
regardless of the law, merely for the sake of money-making."
"Is there a law about killing birds?" asked Nat.
"Certainly. All really civilized States have their game-laws, and I hope
the time is near when all our States will unite in this matter. Where
there is a good law no wild bird or beast, even those which are suitable
and intended for food, may be killed in its nesting or breeding season,
or for some time afterward. Also, these creatures must only be killed by
fair hunting, not with snares or traps or by any foul means; and even
fishes are thus protected against wanton or excessive destruction."
"But if there is a law is some places and not in others, why don't the
birds that travel get shot when they go about?" asked Rap.
"They do, my boy, and that is the pity of it. Some people seem to think
there are so many birds in this great country that they cannot be killed
out; and others are brutal, or do not think at all, but kill for the
sake of killing. The worst of it is that little or no protection is
given the poor birds in the warm countries where they spend the winter.
Thrushes are shot for pot-pie, all the gayly colored birds are killed
for their feathers, and flocks of doves are slain to see how many a man
can hit in a day!
"Olaf says the Meadowlarks are raising their second brood now and he can
find you some empty nests, if you go with him, so you can see how they
are made; he will show you the Redwings' nests, too. You boys may take
off your shoes and stockings; and Miss Dodo, being a girl, shall ride on
Olaf's shoulder." "Please, can't I have my shoes off too?" begged Dodo.
"I love to wade like the boys!"
"By and by, on the beach; but what if a frog or an eel should touch your
foot, or a sharp straw stick in it--are you enough of a boy not to
scream?"
Dodo was not sure, and thought she would begin by riding.
The Meadowlark
Length ten to eleven inches.
Upper parts marked with brown, bay, gray, and black; head striped, with
a yellow spot in front of the eye; wing-feathers nearest the body, and
most of the tail-feathers, scalloped with black and gray, but the
outside tail-feathers white.
Under parts nearly all yellow, with a black crescent on the breast, but
further back flaxen-brown, with dark stripes.
Bill stout where it runs up on the forehead, but tapering to the point.
A Citizen of the United States and Canada.
A good and useful neighbor. A famous member of the guild of Ground
Gleaners, its chief work being to kill bad insects which eat the
grass-roots in pastures and hay-fields.
A beautiful bird and charming songster.