Keep sharp eyes upon the cedar groves in mid-winter, and sooner or later
you will see the waxwings come, not singly or in pairs, but by dozens, and
sometimes in great flocks. They will well repay all the watching one gives
them. The cedar waxwing is a strange bird, with a very pronounced
species-individuality, totally unlike any other bird of our country. When
feeding on their favourite winter berries, these birds show to great
advantage; the warm rich brown of the upper parts and of the crest
contrasting with the black, scarlet, and yellow, and these, in turn, with
the dark green of the cedar and the white of the snow.
The name waxwing is due to the scarlet ornaments at the tips of the lesser
flight feathers and some of the tail feathers, which resemble bits of red
sealing wax, but which are really the bare, flattened ends of the feather
shafts. Cherry-bird is another name which is appropriately applied to the
cedar waxwing.
These birds are never regular in their movements, and they come and go
without heed to weather or date. They should never be lightly passed by,
but their flocks carefully examined, lest among their ranks may be hidden
a Bohemian chatterer--a stately waxwing larger than common and even more
beautiful in hue, whose large size and splashes of white upon its wings
will always mark it out.
This bird is one of our rarest of rare visitors, breeding in the far
north; and even in its nest and eggs mystery enshrouds it. Up to fifty
years ago, absolutely nothing was known of its nesting habits, although
during migration Bohemian chatterers are common all over Europe. At last
Lapland was found to be their home, and a nest has been found in Alaska
and several others in Labrador. My only sight of these birds was of a pair
perched in an elm tree in East Orange, New Jersey; but I will never forget
it, and will never cease to hope for another such red-letter day.
The movements of the cedar waxwings are as uncertain in summer as they are
in winter; they may be common in one locality for a year or two, and then,
apparently without reason, desert it. At this season they feed on insects
instead of berries, and may be looked for in small flocks in orchard or
wood. The period of nesting is usually late, and, in company with the
goldfinches, they do not begin their housekeeping until July and August.
Unlike other birds, waxwings will build their nests of almost anything
near at hand, and apparently in any growth which takes their
fancy,--apple, oak, or cedar. The nests are well constructed, however, and
often, with their contents, add another background of a most pleasing
harmony of colours. A nest composed entirely of pale green hanging moss,
with eggs of bluish gray, spotted and splashed with brown and black,
guarded by a pair of these exquisite birds, is a sight to delight the
eye.
When the young have left the nest, if alarmed by an intruder, they
will frequently, trusting to their protective dress of streaky brown,
freeze into most unbird-like attitudes, drawing the feathers close to
the body and stretching the neck stiffly upward,--almost bittern-like.
Undoubtedly other interesting habits which these strangely picturesque
birds may possess are still awaiting discovery by some enthusiastic
observer with a pair of opera-glasses and a stock of that ever important
characteristic--patience.
Although, during the summer months, myriads of insects are killed and
eaten by the cedar waxwings, yet these birds are preeminently berry
eaters,--choke-cherries, cedar berries, blueberries, and raspberries being
preferred. Watch a flock of these birds in a cherry tree, and you will see
the pits fairly rain down. We need not place our heads, _a la_ Newton, in
the path of these falling stones to deduce some interesting facts,--indeed
to solve the very destiny of the fruit. Many whole cherries are carried
away by the birds to be devoured elsewhere, or we may see parent waxwing
filling their gullets with ten or a dozen berries and carrying them to the
eager nestlings.
Thus is made plain the why and the wherefore of the coloured skin, the
edible flesh, and the hidden stone of the fruit. The conspicuous racemes
of the choke-cherries, or the shining scarlet globes of the cultivated
fruit, fairly shout aloud to the birds--"Come and eat us, we're as good as
we look!" But Mother Nature looks on and laughs to herself. Thistle seeds
are blown to the land's end by the wind; the heavier ticks and burrs are
carried far and wide upon the furry coats of passing creatures; but the
cherry could not spread its progeny beyond a branch's length, were it not
for the ministrations of birds. With birds, as with some other bipeds, the
shortest way to the heart is through the stomach, and a choke-cherry tree
in full blaze of fruit is always a natural aviary. Where a cedar bird has
built its nest, there look some day to see a group of cherry trees; where
convenient fence-perches along the roadside lead past cedar groves, there
hope before long to see a bird-planted avenue of cedars. And so the
marvels of Nature go on evolving,--wheels within wheels.