But very few of the boys and girls who watch the many species of our
birds flit about in the summer time and who listen in delight to their
singing, know that by expending a little time and patience they can
make these sweet songsters quite tame. I do not mean that the birds
are to be caught and confined; I never could bear to see a bird in
captivity, and indeed most wild ones will live but a brief time when
so served, but that they can be made gentle in their natural state.
Where I live, in the Rocky Mountains, there are countless numbers of
birds throughout the spring and summer months and, being a great lover
of them, I have naturally observed their habits closely. Trusting,
therefore, that some of the boys and girls who entertain the affection
for them that I do, will see these lines, I venture to give some of my
experiences along the path of bird-life.
Some five years ago I constructed several miniature cottages, with
verandas, chimneys and all, and placed them on the fences around our
garden. The first season two pairs of wrens selected and occupied two
of them; a third was chosen by a pair of bluebirds, and the fourth
left vacant. Wrens, as you all know, are never much afraid of anyone,
but bluebirds are inclined to be shy. After a short time, however, the
pair I spoke of would alight within a few feet of where I was weeding
vegetables, and soon came to know that where the ground was freshly
turned, there were to be found the most worms. Before the summer was
over the wrens and bluebirds and I were the firmest of friends. Daily
they ran and hopped and peeped under the plants and flowers. And
besides giving me their companionship they did a vast amount of good in
the garden by keeping it clear of bugs and worms. It was astonishing
the number of these they carried to their little ones.
But time stops not, and finally there came cold and frosty nights that
warned my little friends, now comprising three families, that the day
of their departure for warmer lands was drawing near; and soon I was
all alone.
Every year since then has been a repetition of this first, only that
I have more houses around now and consequently more tenants. I firmly
believe too, that the first three couples still return to their old
homes, for the same houses are taken by the wrens every spring and the
same one by the bluebirds.
During the winter also, I sometimes have a few bird pets, though they
are others than snow birds. The latter I have never been able to make
friends with. When the weather is severe I often try to feed them,
but with poor success, as they are always very wild. The pets I have
reference to are bluejays and campbirds, or as they are more usually
called, camp-robbers. Both species stay here the year around.
Last winter I had a laughable time with them. Shortly after the first
snow I noticed a pair of camp-robbers--they seem to go in pairs both
summer and winter--around our meat-house. If you have never seen them
you cannot know what comical birds they are, so solemn and innocent
appearing, yet when it comes to stealing--well, they are the greatest
and boldest thieves you can find. If they are about and you chance
to have anything eatable around and turn your back for a moment you
are pretty sure to find it gone when you look again. I remember while
camping one fall, of seeing one of them dart down from a tree and take
a slice of meat right out of the frying-pan on the fire! But it was too
hot to hold long, and Mr. Camp-robber was obliged to relinquish his
dainty dinner before reaching his perch again. Arriving there he sat
for a long while, looking down at me with a wry face.
But I am digressing, and must get back to my story of the camp-robbers
and the meat-house.
A few days after I first saw them, I went in the house to cut some meat
for dinner; while there one of the robbers alighted on a bench placed
at the side of the door, and stood peeping in. I cut a small piece of
meat and tossed it on the step and in a second he had pounced on it and
was away. Everyday, from that time on, just at noon, the pair of them
would be watching for me, and I made it a rule to put some small pieces
of meat or bread on the steps at that hour of the day. As soon as I
retreated a little way they would secure them and fly off.
After they had been with me about a month, a bluejay happened along
one day, and seeing them at their meal, invited himself to partake of
part of it. The camp-robbers seemed somewhat angry at this, but did not
venture to remonstrate. The next day there were two bluejays and by the
end of a week I had two camp-robbers and seven bluejays looking to me
for their daily dinners.
I fed the whole company all winter and when spring came the
camp-robbers would almost take food from my hands; in fact they seemed
to look to me for protection, when eating, from the bluejays, who were
rather overbearing and wanted more than their share.
Whether they will visit me this winter I know not, but I _do_ know that
I should be glad to see them again.
[Illustration: WILLOW PTARMIGAN.
1/2 Life-size.
FROM COL. F. F. SPREYNE.
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.
COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.]