In early spring Robin Redbreast returned to Leafy Lawn and selected a
new site for his nest in the same apple tree his father and grandfather
had occupied during preceding summers. No other birds had yet arrived
and Robin jumped about on the sprouting lawn master of all he surveyed.
He soon discovered to his sorrow that those selfish, quarrelsome
sparrows who tormented the birds last summer and drove away the wrens,
had gone no farther during the winter than to the eaves of a near barn,
and were already back to their nest in the tall poplar, scolding and
threatening as disagreeably as ever. But Robin noticed that the limb
which held their nest so high was dead and he hoped a strong wind would
dash limb, nest and ugly sparrows all to the ground.
Robin looked very handsome in his crimson vest, hopping over the grass
in a scalloped path, with his modest little mate following in a similar
path beside him. Suddenly they stopped and listened.
“Surely that is Mr. Woodpecker pounding on the tin roof-drain,” said
Robin; and Mrs. Robin looked about curiously and spied Mrs. Woodpecker
on a near tree listening to her husband’s wonderful drumming. Mrs.
Woodpecker was thinking what a fine nest such a strong husband could cut
out and what quantities of corn and nuts he could hammer into the bark
of the trees for an extra food supply. In a very short time the
woodpeckers selected the balm-of-Gilead tree by the gate for their home
and the work began of cutting and tossing the tiny shavings and so
making a hole large enough to accommodate Mrs. Woodpecker while she sat
over the ivory eggs waiting the day of their hatching.
Mr. Woodpecker was recognized as king of Leafy Lawn, perhaps because of
his lordly manner and fine clothes. He always wore a jet black coat and
white satin vest, and what was queer on a king, a large scarlet bonnet.
A few days after the arrival of the Woodpeckers, Robin saw Mr. Blue Jay
making a circuitous route to the tall pine and he knew the Jays had
located there. Though Mr. Blue Jay was always cautious, trying to
deceive every one concerning the whereabouts of his home, he himself
knew every other nest in the yard.
So persistent was he in patrolling Leafy Lawn, jumping from tree to tree
and from branch to branch, reporting his presence, and in case of danger
threatening, squawking so loudly and repeatedly, that it was agreed, as
he already had a blue uniform, that he should be the policeman for this
precinct.
There came a day early in the season when Mr. Woodpecker, Robin
Redbreast and Mr. Blue Jay all assembled within speaking distance on the
lower branches of a silver maple tree and excitedly discussed the
arrival of a number of birds which they had heard early that morning but
had been unable to find.
“My wife,” said Robin, “awakened me from the twig near her nest, where I
usually sleep and keep guard, and she said that one of our kin had
arrived for she had heard a voice exactly like mine from the plum tree.
Hoping it was one of my brothers I searched eagerly until sunrise, and
though I heard him twice I could not find him.”
Mr. Blue Jay was more excited than before and turned about, twitched his
tail violently, scolded and sputtered that he had had just such an
experience and he believed the sparrows had added witchcraft to their
other sins and were trying to hoodoo the birds of Leafy Lawn.
A frightened sparrow overheard this accusation and came near enough to
protest that they were not guilty and had been themselves trying in vain
to find their newly-arrived English relatives, whom they had believed
they heard that morning.
Mr. Woodpecker said it might be no personal affair of his as he had
heard no drumming nor mocking of his song, but if Leafy Lawn were to be
occupied by kildares, bobolinks, meadow larks and blackbirds he thought
there would be scarce picking of worms, bugs or seeds for the old
settlers who were the rightful possessors of these premises and it was a
serious condition of things. In closing his pompous speech he shook his
scarlet bonnet furiously, smoothed his waistcoat and jumped upon a
higher limp and called off his “chit-it-it-it-it-it” so shrill and high
that his companions were for the moment alarmed lest he should split his
throat. But he stopped as suddenly as he had begun, and upon the silence
that followed the birds heard, as surely as they saw the blossoms on the
apple trees, the song of the thrush.
“It is undoubtedly a hobgoblin,” hoarsely whispered Mr. Woodpecker, “for
Mr. Blue Jay swore to me this morning that during the seasons he and his
ancestors have patrolled this lawn never have they seen a thrush even
alight here.”
It was decided that the three birds make one more immediate and thorough
search for the monster hobgoblin which infested the Lawn.
Imagine their chagrin when they saw tilting upon the unleaved twig of a
late catalpa tree a modest little gray bird with keen, bright eyes, who
commenced a garble of all their songs called off in such merriment that
the birds could not but appreciate the sport. Then the stranger, who was
no other than Mr. Cat-bird, a cousin to the brown mocking-bird of the
south, gave a weird cry exactly like a cat’s meow which so frightened
the birds they flew hastily away to their several homes.
Mr. Cat-bird was welcomed to Leafy Lawn, for his beautiful voice was an
esteemed acquisition to the morning chorus, but he could not deceive the
birds again with his imitative songs.
Many a time, however, he would sit upon the corner of the house roof and
perpetrate his joke on the boy in the hammock below, who thought he knew
much about birds, but who could not understand why, when he heard so
many different voices, there was only a little gray cat-bird within
sight.
Gertrude Southwick Kingsland.
THE RUSTY BLACKBIRD OR GRACKLE.
(_Scolecophagus carolinus._)
Unlike the other blackbirds and our common orioles the Rusty Blackbird
must not be sought in the orchards and fields of our farms and waysides,
but in our forests and the heavily wooded banks of mountain streams and
lakes. In such places this retiring bird passes the breeding season and
raises its family in quiet solitude. It even seems to shun the company
of its own kind and, unlike the red-winged blackbird, is seldom seen in
large flocks. It is only in the spring that we may observe even small
flocks from “whence issues a confused medley of whistles, sweeter and
higher-pitched than the best efforts of the redwings.” Captain Charles
Bendire says: “The ordinary call note sounds like ‘tehack, tehack,’
several times repeated; another like ‘turnlee, turnlee, turnlee,’
uttered in a clear tone and varied occasionally to ‘trallahee,
trallahee.’”
Few birds exhibit a more happy disposition. They seem always to be
perfectly satisfied with their surroundings. One writer, quietly
watching them, gathered in the trees about him, says that “The wind
whistled loudly through the branches above, but these lively fellows
began a serenade so joyous and full of gleeful abandon that I lingered
long to hear them. In singing they opened the bill widely and the throat
swelled with melody. Their notes are rich, varied and energetic. They
are almost constantly in motion, chasing each other or flying from perch
to perch, singing merrily most of the time.”
The Rusty Blackbird has a wide range. It is more common in the eastern
portion of North America from Florida and the Gulf of Mexico northward
to the northern limit of the forests. Westward, though constantly
decreasing in numbers as the distance increases from the Atlantic coast,
it is found as far as the great plains and very rarely on the eastern
slopes of the Rocky Mountains. It frequents practically the whole forest
area of British America from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean. Mr. E.
W. Nelson says: “I found it abundant at the Yukon mouth, where the
widely extended areas of bush grown country offered suitable shelter and
where it consequently nested in considerable numbers.”
Their nesting range covers the whole of British America, but in the
United States it is restricted to a comparatively small area. Its nests
have only been reported as occurring in portions of New England and in
the wild Adirondack forests. In winter it makes its home in the Middle
and Southern States. At this time, from necessity, it is often seen
around barn and stock yards, feeding on the grain that has been dropped
by the cattle.
During the summer season the Rusty Blackbird depends almost entirely on
animal life for its food, eating caterpillars, moths and other insects,
worms, snails and spiders, also eating, to a limited extent, wild
berries.
The nest of the Rusty Blackbird is large and substantially constructed.
It is generally placed in cone-bearing trees and is seldom more than ten
feet from the ground. As a rule, trees growing in swampy and rather
inaccessible places are selected. The base of the nest “is principally
composed of sphagnum moss and earth, forming a firm, hard platform on
which the nest proper is built. This is thickly covered on the outside
with small tamarack and spruce twigs, mixed with a few blades of grass,
pieces of fern and long green moss, especially at the base. The inner
cup is thickly and neatly lined with fine bright green grass.” These
blackbirds are not quarrelsome and are devoted parents, both sexes
assisting in the care of the young, which are able to leave the nest in
about fifteen or sixteen days. Our illustration shows the fall and
winter plumage of the male. During the breeding season the plumage is a
glossy bluish black.
[Illustration: ]