ON THE SHORE
By the first of August, bird housekeeping was over at Orchard Farm. The
Barn Swallow had guided her last brood through the hayloft window,
without having it closed upon her as she had feared. The friendly Robins
had left the Orchard and lawn, to moult in the quiet of the woods. The
Thrashers, and Catbirds too, were quite silent and invisible; of all the
voices that had made the last three months so musical, the Red-eyed
Vireo and the Song Sparrow alone persisted in singing, aided by a few
Wood Thrushes.
"Rap says that August is a poor month for birds about here," said Nat to
his uncle; "do you think there will be more of them down at the shore?"
"That we cannot tell until we go there, but we are likely to meet some
of the Wading and Swimming Birds who have nested in the far North, and
are on their southward journey. If the weather is pleasant, they often
pass by far out at sea; but if it is foggy or stormy, they may stop
awhile to rest and feed."
"Do many of these birds nest near our beach?"
"A few, but the greater number breed further north. Olaf will show us
Herons in the island woods, and where the Rails nest in the reeds, near
the Marsh Wrens, a mile or two up the river. Some day when it is calm,
we will sail over to Great Gull Island, where many water birds lay their
eggs on the bare sand. There will be enough for you to see and do, I
promise you."
The next day they all went to the shore. Mr. Wolf looked after them very
sadly from the door of his kennel, where he was chained, and barked a
gruff goodbye; but Quick informed them that he intended going also, took
matters into his own hands, and started to run down the road ahead of
the wagon.
After much arranging, talking, and laughing, two wagon-loads of people,
rubber boots, fishing tackle, and other things, started toward the
shore, a farm hand going with each team to drive the horses back.
"Miss Olive, honey!" called Mammy Bun as they were starting, "don' you
let de chillen eat too many o' dem clams what has de long necks; dey is
powerful full o' cramps." And Olive promised that she would be very
careful.
When they reached the shore, they found everything ready for them.
Olaf's little home, which contained four tiny rooms, was as clean and
compact as a ship's cabin. There was a kitchen, one room for Olive and
Dodo, one for the Doctor, and another for Rap's mother; while Olaf, Nat,
and Rap were to sleep close by in a tent made of poles, canvas, and pine
boughs. Several boats were drawn up on the beach, by a creel of nets and
some lobster pots, while Olaf's sharpie was anchored in deep water a
little way offshore.
It was late when the horses turned homeward after leaving their loads;
it had been a beautiful afternoon, neither too warm nor too cool. "Oh!"
exclaimed Dodo, "now that the horses have gone, the good time will
begin; for we can't go back even if we want to."
The children amused themselves for some time in looking at their new
quarters, and then in watching Olaf row out to light the beacon lamps.
When it grew dusk they had supper, wondering at the strange stillness of
the evening; for, though it was usually very quiet at the Farm, they had
never before known the silence that falls with the twilight on a shore
where the water does not rush and beat as on the ocean beaches, but
simply laps lazily to and fro, like the swinging of a hammock.
Presently the stars began to give good-evening winks at the
beacons--first one, then another and another, until the whole sky
twinkled; while one evening star, the brightest of them all, hurried
along the west as if it were trying to overtake the sun, and knew that
it was fully half an hour behind the jolly god of day.
"See how the tide is coming in," said Rap, when they returned to the
beach. "When Olaf went out, he had to push his boat ever so far, and now
the water is almost up to the line of seaweeds and shells."
"I wonder what makes the water go in and out?" questioned Dodo, half to
herself.
"I don't exactly know," said Rap; "but I think it is because the earth
goes round every day, making the water tip from one side to the other
and then back again."
"Then why doesn't it all tip off into the sky?" persisted Dodo.
"I guess--because--that is, I don't know," stammered Rap. "I must ask
Uncle Roy to tell us, and why the earth down here on the shore stays
sharp and gritty when it is wet; for when the earth up at the Farm is
wet, it makes sticky mud," said Dodo.
"Yes," said Nat, "and why the stars are of such different sizes, and
seem to stay quite still, except some that go along like that big bright
one over there."
"Quok! Quok!" cried a strange voice from the marshes back of the beach.
"Quok, quok, quok, quok!" answered other voices.
"What can that be?" said Nat; "it isn't a Whip-poor-will, or a
Nighthawk--it must be one of the cannibal birds. Uncle Roy, what kind of
birds are those calling away over in the marshes?" But the Doctor was
not within hearing, and it was some time before they found him, sitting
by the cabin door smoking his pet outdoor pipe, which was made of a
corn-cob.
"Did you hear the Night Herons calling as you came up?" he asked.
"We heard a very queer squawky sound, and came to ask you what it was,
for we couldn't guess," said Nat. "What is a Night Heron--a cousin of
the Nighthawk, who lives near the water?"
"I don't think it's a water bird," said Rap, "because I have heard that
same squawking up by the mill."
"But is not the mill close to the pond?" said the Doctor, smiling.
"Why, yes, to be sure--but I was thinking of salt water."
"That is a distinction that applies to few of our water birds; when we
speak of the birds that wade, paddle, swim, and dive, we must remember
that they may do so in lakes, rivers, bays, or the ocean, according to
their individual habits. In fact, some members of a single family prefer
fresh water, while their brothers are more fond of the salt sea. This is
the case in the family of the Night Heron."
"Where does he belong?" asked Rap, "with the paddling birds or the
swimming ones?"
"With the paddlers and waders."
"See, here comes the moon up out of the water and it makes a shiny path
up to our feet and Olaf is rowing back right down it and the stars have
stopped winking and are getting dim," said eager little Dodo, with an
"and" wherever she ought to have stopped to breathe, as usual. "Hark!
the Herons are squawking again--won't you tell us about them now, Uncle
Roy?"
A LONG-NECKED FAMILY
[Illustration: Black-Crowned Night Heron.]
"The long-necked, long-legged, long-billed Heron family, to which these
squawkers belong, contains many marsh-loving birds. They are not exactly
what we call shore birds, but live contentedly near any water, where
they can wade and splash about pools and shallows for their food. For
they eat meat, though they never kill birds, like the cannibals. Their
taste is for frogs, lizards, snakes, snails, crabs, fish, and other
small fry; they very seldom eat any warm-blooded animals. Herons are
all rather large birds, the smallest of them being over a foot in
length, while the largest stand fully four feet high."
"Quok! Quok!" came the cry again, this time just over the cabin. Looking
up, the children saw a dark body flying toward the wood belt; something
like a long beak stuck out from its breast in front, and its long legs
were stretched out stiff behind, but these were the only details that
they could distinguish.
"I thought Herons had long necks," said Nat; "but this one doesn't seem
to have any neck at all."
"Ah, but when it flies it folds its long neck, and thus draws its head
down between its shoulders, while some of the Stork and Crane cousins
poke out their heads in flying."
"Are Storks and Cranes cousins of the Herons?" asked Dodo. "I know about
Storks--they are in my fairy book. They live in the north country where
little Tuk came from, and build their nests on roofs between chimneys,
and stand a great deal on one leg in the water looking for frogs. Do
Herons nest on roofs and stand on one leg, Uncle Roy?"
"They do not nest on roofs, but they often stand on one leg when
watching for food, and when sleeping--in fact, they stand so much in
this way that one leg is often stronger than the other, and they most
certainly belong to the guild of Wise Watchers. The Black-crowned Night
Heron who has just flown over is the most familiar member of his family
hereabouts, and quite a sociable bird. He prefers to live the hotel life
of a colony, instead of having a quiet home of his own, and so do almost
all other members of the Heron family. These Night Herons flock back
from warm countries in April, and by early May have built their rough
nests of sticks in trees near the water, or over a marshy place. There
is a colony of twenty or thirty nests on Marsh Island, Olaf tells me; in
my boyhood days there used to be hundreds of them.
"In nesting-time a heronry, as such a colony is called, is a very noisy,
dirty place; for they do not keep their homes neat and nice, like the
tidy land birds. Mr. and Mrs. Night Heron call hoarsely enough to each
other, but imagine three or four baby Herons crying from every
nest--truly the parents can have but little rest, for day and night they
must go frogging or fishing, to fill the stomachs of their red-eyed
awkward children.
"When the nesting season is over, however, this Heron again becomes the
night watchman of the marshes. The tinkling of the bell on the
home-going cow is his breakfast bell, and sunset the signal for him to
leave his roost. Then beware! little fishes and lizards--those red eyes
are glowing for you! That long spear-shaped beak is ready to stab you to
death! Froggy 'who would a-wooing go,' return quickly to your mother,
without making any impertinent remarks about 'gammon and spinach' on the
way, or something much more savage than the 'lily-while duck' will
surely gobble you up! Stay in doors patiently, until sunrise sends the
rough-clawed prowler back to his heronry again."
"May we go to see the Herons some day? It would be so funny to go to a
bird hotel and find everybody asleep, like the beauty in the wood," said
Dodo. "You shall certainly pay them a visit, but I doubt that you will
find them as sound asleep as you imagine."
The very next morning Olaf piloted the party across the meadows to the
wood that was made an island by a little creek that threaded in and out
among the reeds.
"I know somebody whose feet are wet already!" said Nat, pointing to
Olive, who was slipping about uncertainly.
"I know it was very foolish to come without my rubber boots, but they
are so uncomfortable to wear in summer. Oh! please give me your
hand--quick, father!" The Doctor caught her as she was sinking in what
looked like a bit of good ground, but was really a bog tuft.
It took some time to work their way to the centre of the island. There
the ground was drier in spots, between the little pools, and there were
some high trees.
"Stop here," said Olaf cautiously, "and look well before."
They did so just as the crackling twigs startled some dusky shapes that
flapped among the trees.
"The Herons!" exclaimed Rap, settling his crutch more firmly and
preparing to watch closely.
As soon as their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, the party saw
many large birds, some in the trees, some in the decaying underbrush,
and others on the ground. Here and there among the trees were nests,
looking like flat heaps of sticks. They were empty; but their sides, the
trees, and the ground were all spattered and befouled with the
chalky-white droppings of the careless colony. "Ugh!" shivered Dodo,
who had a very keen nose, "what an ugly place to live in, and such a
horrid smell! Please, uncle, don't these birds have dreadful headaches
very often?"
"I think House People would have wretched headaches if they lived
here--in fact, we must not stay very long; but it agrees with Herons,
who are built to be the wardens of just such places."
"There are two kinds of Herons here," said Rap. "Some black and white,
with a topknot, and some striped brown ones. Aren't the brown ones
Bitterns? They look like one I saw in the miller's woods, and he called
it a Bittern."
"The striped ones are the young birds, now wearing their first plumage.
Bitterns prefer to live in freshwater meadows, or near ponds. They are
solitary birds, keeping house in single pairs, and after nesting-time
wander about entirely alone."
"Isn't it very hard to tell young Night Herons from Bitterns?" asked
Nat.
"It would be easy for you to mistake them, but the habits of the two
species are quite different. The Bittern nests on the ground, in a reedy
bog, not in the woods, and may be seen flying in broad daylight, with
his long legs trailing behind him. But in spite of this, he is a
difficult bird to find; for if anything is 'remote, unfriendly,
solitary, slow,' it is the American Bittern, who often stands motionless
among the reeds for hours."
"That is just what the Bittern did that the miller and I saw," said Rap.
"We were hunting for a calf--the miller's things are always straying
away, because he never mends his fences--and this Bittern was among
some very tall grasses and dry flags; for it was along in the fall,
when things were turning brown. I don't know how I ever came to see him;
but when I did, he looked so queer that he almost scared me, and I said
to the miller, 'Whatever is that?'
[Illustration: American Bittern.]
"For a minute he couldn't see anything, and then he said, 'Pshaw! that's
only a Bittern; but I do wish I had my gun.'
"'Why doesn't he move?' said I. 'Look at the way he holds his head
straight up, like a stick. I'm going round behind him to see what his
back looks like.'
"'He's a stupid thing, and thinks we don't see him,' said the miller. I
walked round and round until I began to get dizzy, but that bird was all
front, and all I could see was his striped breast and neck. Then I saw
the miller was laughing.
"'That bird isn't as stupid as he looks,' said he. 'He turns around just
as fast as you walk, so you won't have a chance to get behind him.' Then
we heard the calf low, and we went away."
"That was a sight worth seeing, my boy," said the Doctor; "for it is one
of the best proofs that birds understand the value of protection of
color. The Bittern and the old reeds blended their colors together, and
by stretching up its neck the bird adapted his shape as much as possible
to the straight, stiff lines of the reeds, while by keeping his front
parts toward you, the curves of his back were concealed. You might have
passed his hiding-place a hundred times without seeing him. But
come--let us leave this Heron hotel, and find a way to the lane road."
The open air seemed doubly sweet and fresh, after the fishy smell of the
Heronry. Dodo stopped under the first shade tree, and begged for her
tables.
The Black-crowned Night Heron
(The Night Watchman)
Length about two feet.
Upper parts glossy greenish black in front, but ashy-gray behind and on
the neck, wings, and tail; the forehead white, and two slender white
plumes sticking out six or eight inches behind the head.
Under parts whitish, including the long throat or front of the whole
neck.
Bill black, with greenish bare skin between it and the red eyes; legs
yellow.
Sexes alike, but young very different, being grayish-brown above with
many white or buff spots, and white below with black streaks.
A Summer Citizen of North America, useful in keeping down frogs and
small reptiles, but too untidy to be a pleasant neighbor.
A member of the guild of Wise Watchers.
The American Bittern
(The Stake-Driver Or Thunder-Pumper)
Length from twenty-three to thirty-four inches, which is a very unusual
difference in birds of the same species. Upper parts all freckled with
brown, black, and tan color of various shades, as if sun-burnt, with a
velvety black patch on each side of the neck, and the longest
wing-feathers plain blackish with brown tips; top of head plain brown.
Under parts tawny whitish or pale buff, every feather with a dark
streak, and the middle line of feathers along the whole throat white
with brown streaks.
Bill blackish and yellowish; legs greenish; claws brown; eyes yellow.
A Citizen of temperate North America, but a very shy and solitary bird,
who will not be neighborly and is oftener heard than seen in the bogs
where he likes to live alone. He makes a loud noise that sounds like
chopping wood with an axe or driving a stake in the ground with a
mallet; so he is called the Stake-driver by some people, while others
name him Thunder-pumper and Bog-bull. His body is about as big as a
Hen's, and he is sometimes known as Indian Hen, though his very long
beak, neck, and legs are not at all like those of a Hen.
A member of the guild of Wise Watchers, who keeps a sharp lookout for
the reptiles and little fishes he spears with his strong pointed bill,
and places his nest on the ground; the eggs are drab-colored, not pale
green like those of most members of the Heron family.
A BONNET MARTYR AND A BLUE GIANT
"You promised to tell us about four Herons--please, who are the other
two?" asked Dodo, when she had finished writing these tables, and had
buttoned her book into the pocket of the long gray linen apron which the
Doctor had taught both Olive and herself to wear on those excursions,
whether they hunted birds, flowers, or butterflies.
"Boys have pockets--how I wish I was a boy!" Dodo had said, after she
had been at Orchard Farm a couple of days. "So do I," had echoed Olive;
"there is always something to carry, and everything seems either to fall
out of girls' pockets, or to be smashed flat."
"If you will only promise not to turn into boys, I will furnish you with
pockets," the Doctor had said, and he had kept his word as usual.
[Illustration: Snowy Egret Or Bonnet Martyr.]
"Did I say four Herons?" he now asked. "Yes, to be sure; there are two
more that will interest you--the Snowy Egret or Bonnet Martyr, and the
Great Blue Heron or Blue Giant."
"Bonnet Martyr? What a strange name for a bird! Why do you call him
that? Do they live about here?" asked Nat.
"They do not live so far north as this, though they sometimes stray
through the Middle and Northern States. But in the Southern States, and
Florida in particular, they used to live in vast colonies. Now they are
being surely and quickly put out of the world by the cruelty and
thoughtlessness of House People--the particular kind of House People who
wear women's hats and bonnets.
"Once these Egrets covered the southern lowlands like drifting snow--for
they are beautifully white. In the nesting season, when many birds are
allowed some special attraction in the way of plumage, bunches of long,
slender, graceful plumes grow on their backs between the shoulders and
curl up over the tail.
"In an evil moment some woman, imitating the savages, used a bunch of
these feathers to make a tuft upon her headgear. From that day the
spotless bird was doomed to martyrdom. Egrets, as the plumes are called
like the birds themselves, became a fashionable trimming for bonnets and
have continued so to this day, in spite of law and argument; for many
women seem to be savages still, notwithstanding their fine clothes and
other signs of civilization.
"These Herons only wear their beautiful plumes in the nesting season,
when it is the height of cruelty to kill birds of any kind, and this is
what happens: When the nests, which are built of sticks in bushes and
trees above the lagoons, are filled with young, as yet too feeble to
take care of themselves, and the beautiful parents are busy flying to
and fro, attending to the wants of their helpless nestlings, the
plume-hunters glide among them noiselessly, threading the watercourses
in an Indian dug-out or canoe, and when once within the peaceful
colony, show themselves with bold brutality. For well they know that the
devoted parents will suffer death rather than leave their young in such
danger.
"Shot upon shot rings out in repeated volleys, each followed in turn by
the piteous cries of wounded birds, till the ground is strewn with
hundreds of the dead and dying. Then the cruel hunters tear off the
plume-tuft from the back of each victim, as the savage does a human
scalp, and move on in search of another heronry, to repeat this inhuman
slaughter of the innocents.
"But this is not all--what becomes of the young birds? They must either
perish slowly of hunger, or be swallowed by the snakes that infest such
places and are attracted to the nests by the clamoring of the starving
orphans. Now do you wonder that I call this beautiful Snowy Egret the
Bonnet Martyr?"
"I never, never will wear any kind of bird's feathers again," said Dodo;
"and when I go back to school I am going to make a guild for people who
will promise not to either. Are Ostriches killed for their feathers,
Uncle Roy? Because my best winter hat has a curly row all round the
crown."
"No. Ostrich plumes are a perfectly harmless decoration, for the bird
earns his own and his master's living by growing them, without losing
his life. They are the only kind of feathers that should ever be worn
for ornament."
"Has the Great Blue Heron pretty feathers like a Bluebird?" asked Nat,
who felt sorry for the fate of the Egrets, but did not like to show it
and so tried to turn the subject.
"He is of a slate-gray color, which you might not think blue at all,
and he too wears fine plumes, on his head, breast, and back. He is the
largest bird of our hundred, being quite as tall as you are, Miss Dodo.
If you ever see one of these birds standing on the edge of the mill
pond, you will never forget it; for it does not seem like an American
bird, but rather like a visitor from strange lands. You may imagine it
to be an Egyptian princess in disguise, waiting for a barge to come down
the river, rowed by black slaves and conveying a prince all glittering
with jewels, who is bringing a ring cut with mystic letters to break the
spell--as such things are managed in fairy tales.
[Illustration: Blue Heron.]
"This Blue Heron, you will find, has no sweeter voice than his
night-flying cousin, and, like the latter, nests in colonies in the
trees; but afterward he travels about alone, as the Bittern does."
The Snowy Egret
(The Bonnet Martyr.)
Length about two feet.
Pure white all over, with a bunch of many long slender plumes growing
between the shoulders, and shorter ones on the head and neck, in the
nesting season. Feet and legs black. Toes yellow. Bill black and yellow.
A Citizen of temperate and tropical America.
A member of the guild of Wise Watchers, whose food and habits are the
same as those of most other Herons, and who, if he does us no special
good service, is perfectly innocent, and should never be butchered to
make a woman's Easter holiday bonnet.
He has a larger brother called the American White Egret, as pure white
as himself, but three feet or more instead of only two feet long, with
the plumes hanging down over his tail instead of curled up, and none
growing on his head.
The Great Blue Heron
(Or Blue Giant)
Length about four feet.
Plumage mostly slate-gray or bluish-ash, but black and white on the head
and each side of the breast, and chestnut on the bend of the wing. A
crest on the back of the head, a fringe of long feathers at the root of
the neck in front, and another on the back in the breeding season.
Feathers on upper part of the legs reddish-brown, the bare scaly part
black; bill yellow and greenish, with black on top; bare skin between it
and the eyes blue.
A Citizen of North America.
A member of the guild of Wise Watchers who is wise enough to mind his
own business and do nobody any harm, though he is not inclined to be
sociable with House People. "I think we had best be going toward the
house," said Olaf, glancing at the sky; "there's thunder-heads racing
up." So the children, always ready for something new, started eagerly,
and bewildered Olaf with questions about clouds and weather signs all
the way home.