Out of the woods they come, visiting our homes wherever they see a
standing invitation in the shape of a tree. But each one has his
preferences. One likes the evergreens best, another the bare trunk
where it is easy to break the bark, and still another likes a fresh
tree like the magnolia, glossy and full of life even in winter. You
have guessed these are birds? Yes; and the small downy woodpecker comes
first, and in all weathers. The other day after a sun-rise of gold and
a splendid rainbow arch, swiftly blotted out by a black storm with
scudding rain and flying leaves, I caught sight of a tiny downy, in the
very heart of all the uproar of the elements, busily pecking his way
up a tree near my window. On another winter day, sunny and calm, he
came flying overhead with a loud rattling note that spoke of good cheer
in most neighborly fashion. It is a family, at the very least, that
visits us. There are variations in size, if I mistake not, and one day
a pair arrived together; the female with her glossy black velvet crown
almost as handsome with her broad white satin stripe down the middle,
and black and white markings, as her mate, who, indeed, only outshines
her by the lovely band of red on the head or nape of his neck, as you
choose to call it. I fancy she is the more anxious housekeeper. At
least, it was her persistent call-note, rather sharp in tone, that drew
me from my lounge to watch her quick movements on the bark, and it is
she that more quickly takes flight. He seems never disturbed by his
inquisitive human neighbors, nor even the impudent sparrows--though he
can send these to the right about if he pleases--and his tap, tap, tap,
like a small drummer on the tree-trunk, is always pleasant to hear.
I am glad to know they both have a cozy little home, a hole on the
southern side of a tree, where the sun shines on good days, and fancy
them tucked into round balls of feathers, only to be distinguished
by the red on top, and comfortably asleep, when neither pleasure nor
necessity invites them abroad.
The yellow-bellied sapsucker is also a winter guest, but he is far more
timid than the downy, and I have often seen him routed by the sparrows
or scared off by a sudden sound. The male is very gay in plumage, with
much mottled yellowish brown on back, conspicuous white stripes on
wings, beautiful clear yellow and black in front, scarlet on his head
and cardinal at his throat. The female has a white throat and cardinal
or black cap. I have noticed one with a cardinal cap that had little
black feathers sticking here and there like an emery bag. They are very
full of fun, even riotous in play, and shout, in their summer home--the
woods of the north--but they are very quiet when wintering with us, and
often flit away without a sound.
Of the nuthatches, the pretty white-breasted one with his soft
bluish-grey coat and shining black head, is our familiar resident and
the red-breasted an occasional winter companion. They are charming
little birds, not specially musical, though their call is vigorous and
friendly, but very pretty and gentle, and awakening perpetual wonder
and admiration at their feats as acrobats, running as lightly head
downwards as in a natural position, and showing equal swiftness and
grace in every movement, whether with aid of wings or without. They
never seem in the least afraid of us, but raise their softly rounded
heads and look at us with a most delightful confidence.
The brown creeper is like a bit of the trunk in his brown tints,
mottled as if in mimicry of the play of light and shadow on the bark.
He is as truly a tree-creature as ever Greek fable devised, and can
so flatten himself, when alarmed, against a tree that no inch of his
light breast is visible, and it is difficult, indeed, to recognize him
as a separate being. He is the one species found in America of quite a
large Old World family, and has some odd characteristics. First, his
long tail, used to aid him in climbing, is rather curved and stiff and
generally worn by constant use. His bill is also curved, so that the
profile of his figure is like a relaxed bow as he works his plodding
way up the side of the tree, diligently seeking insects, eggs, and
larvæ, in the minute crevices of the bark. He sticks his little nest,
made, of course, of bits of dead wood, bark, and twigs, between the
tree and a strip of loose bark, very like a part of the tree itself,
and the eggs are spotted and dotted with wood colors, brown in
different shades, and lavender. Altogether his life is a tree-study;
the tree is to him home, model, hunting-ground, hiding-place, and
refuge. He never descends by creeping, but when he wants to search a
lower part of the trunk, he flies to the base, and begins it all over
again. In the summer fir-wood, farther northward, it is said he sings,
but in winter-time we hear only a faint squeak, a little like one bough
scraping against another.
The black-and-white creeping warbler is very like our sober brown
creeper in habit, but he, like most of his gay brethren, is only
a summer guest. In his place we have Carolina chickadees and
golden-crowned kinglets--and even, by good luck, an occasional
ruby-crowned. All these tiny creatures have the most charming and airy
ways of flitting from bough to bough, swinging lightly from the utmost
end of a bough, daintily dropping to unexpected resting-places, and
rarely pausing for a second's breathing-time anywhere. The Carolina
chickadee is said to have a longer note and more varied _repertoire_
than his northern cousin, yet whenever I have heard him in winter
weather, there is the same silvery and joyous tinkle of showering
_Chick-a-dee-dee-dees_ from the pretty gray and black-capped flock that
I have heard in Massachusetts. Perhaps the variations are more evident
in his summer singing.
I have left the kinglet for the last, but it is hard to do justice to
this lovely little bird that, if the food-supply be all right, will
often elect to stay with us in winter rather than migrate to Mexico.
His colors are exquisite, olive-green bordered by darker tints that
throw the green above and the yellow-tinted white below into fine
relief; a brilliant crown of reddish-gold, bordered by black and
yellow, and every feather preened to satiny smoothness. He gleans his
food merrily, singing or calling softly to himself as he works. His
nest is built in the far northern forests, sometimes swinging as high
as sixty feet, and woven of pale green mosses, lined with strips of the
silky inside back and down for the many nestlings.
[Illustration: Butter-nut.
Edible pine.
Cross section Black Walnut.
Cocoa-nut.
Butter-nut in husk.
Black Walnut.
PRES. BY CUNEO BROS.
COPYRIGHT 1899,
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.]