Last week I had the good fortune to be invited with two other girls to
spend a few days in the country. We hailed the invitation with delight
and accepted it with alacrity, for we all three love to get out into
the woods and fields.
We started on Friday afternoon, going the first part of the journey by
train. The sky was cloudy and the weather mild. We watched the moving
pictures that sped by the car windows as eagerly as children.
After a half-hour's ride we arrived at a little "town" consisting
of the station, one store, one house, one grain elevator, and a
blacksmith's shop. Here our hostess met us with a surrey and pair,
and we were soon driving along at a brisk pace, drinking in the fresh
air and country scenery with pure delight. The person whose power of
enjoyment in little things has become blunted, is greatly to be pitied.
"Ours was as keen as though newly sharpened for the occasion; and
nothing we saw, from the fields, trees, and hedges, to the setting sun,
failed to give us pleasure.
A merry drive of three or four miles brought us to the farm-house,
where we were cordially welcomed.
I should like to tell you about all the fun we had that night, for it
was our hostess' birthday, and there was a surprise party, at which
_we_ were as much surprised as she was. But as it is our walk I'm going
to tell about, I must leave the events of our first evening unrelated.
The next morning we three girls decided to take a walk, as we were
anxious to see what birds there were about. It was a gray day,
threatening rain, and very wild for December.
The moment we set foot out of doors the distant "caw-caw" of the crows
sounded like an invitation in our ears. How I love that sound! It is to
the ear what a dash of color is to the eye.
We took the road to the right, where we saw some woods a quarter of a
mile or more away.
Before we had gone far we heard a medley of bird notes coming from the
fields on our left. We couldn't make out what they were, as they were
some distance away, but I caught a note now and then that sounded like
a fragment of the meadow-lark's song--just a faint reminiscence of it.
After passing two pastures and a cornfield on our left, we came to
a piece of thin timber land. The road, which began to descend here,
had been cut down somewhat, leaving banks more or less steep on
either side. We went along slowly, stopping frequently to examine the
beautiful mosses and lichens which abounded. We had seen no birds, with
the exception of a woodpecker, at close range yet.
Presently we came to a turn in the road which led us up a slight rise
of ground, bordered on both sides by woods. Arrived at the top of this
hillock we loitered about looking at the many interesting thing that
are always to be seen in the woods. All at once we were startled by
a shrill scream, or cry, which sounded like some young animal being
strangled, and behold! an immense hawk flew off over the tree-tops. It
didn't fly very far though, and gave us more of its music at intervals.
The road from this point led down to a small brook spanned by a wooden
bridge. Looking down toward this bridge, a gorgeous sight met our eyes.
A flock of cardinals, half a dozen or more, were flying and sporting
about among the low bushes near one end of it. What a delicious touch
of color for a winter landscape! There were chickadees, too, hopping
about among them in a most neighborly fashion. We watched them closely,
quietly drawing nearer and nearer. Pretty soon they flew into the trees
close by, and from thence deeper into the woods. We saw and heard many
woodpeckers, both the downy and the hairy being very plentiful.
As the place where we had seen the redbirds was such a pretty one,
we were in no haste to leave it, even after they had departed. So we
perched ourselves on top of an old rail fence, and waited for some
birds to come to us and be looked at. We hadn't been there very long
before some tufted titmice came into the trees near us, and delighted
us with their cheery notes and cunning ways. The "caw" of the crows
was quite loud here and, with the added notes of the woodpeckers
and chickadees, made it quite lively. Every once in a while a few
drops of rain would fall. But this only added to the wildness of our
surroundings, and seemed to put us farther away from the rest of the
world.
Though we found our rural perch very enjoyable, we felt obliged to move
on again, however reluctantly. So we crossed the bridge and climbed
the hill beyond. A short walk then brought us to another turn, to the
right, but on the left an open gate into the woods.
We lost no time in turning in here, you may be sure. We found many
more birds inside the woods than we had along the road. Here were
titmice, chickadees, plenty of nut-hatches white-breasted; hairy and
downy woodpeckers, and also a third kind that we were uncertain about.
Its upper parts looked like black and white shepherd's plaid, and
the back of its head and nape were deep red. Its note was a sonorous
_cow-cow-cow-cow-cow_. We heard brown creepers about, and saw many
flocks of juncos.
When we came to the end of the woods we saw a pair of our cardinals
flying about some low brushwood. It was like seeing old friends.
I must not forget to mention the blue-jay, who added his voice and
brilliant color to the pleasure of our walk.
We had entered a cornfield, and as we advanced, flocks of little birds,
mostly juncos, would start up before us and fly into the hedge or next
field, twittering gaily. Twice we heard distinctly the goldfinch's
note; but as the birds all flew up at our approach, we couldn't get
near enough to distinguish them. It seemed very odd to hear this
summery note amidst that wintry scene.
We crossed the cornfield and came to a fence, at right angles,
following which took us in the direction of the road. Just as we
came up to a few scattered trees, part in the field, and part in
the pastures on the other side of the fence, we again heard our
medley chorus of many voices, some of which had reminded us of
the meadow-lark's. The members of the chorus who proved to be the
meadowlarks' cousins, the rusty blackbirds settled in these trees and
gave us a selection in their best style. Some of the solo parts were
really sweet.
After climbing a rail fence we crossed a small pasture and looked in
vain for a gate. Nothing but barbed wire. We finally made our escape
through a pigs' corn-pen, from whence we emerged into another pasture
where the grass was like the softest carpet to our feet. This pasture
had a gate opening onto the road; so we were very soon back again at
the house, with appetites for dinner fully developed.
We saw and heard no less than fourteen different kinds of birds during
our walk. So those who desire to see birds need not despair of finding
them because it is winter. Nature always has plenty of beautiful things
to show us, no matter what the time of year.
My story ought to end here, but I must tell you about the tufted "tits"
we saw next morning. The weather turned very cold that night, and in
the morning a keen wind was blowing, so we didn't think many birds
would be about. But hearing some chickadees in the yard, we ventured
out, and went across the road, where we sat down in the shelter of a
large corncrib.
From here we saw plenty of chickadees, titmice, nut-hatches, and other
woodpeckers busily engaged in hunting their breakfasts. We had a fine
opportunity of studying them with our glasses.
One bold "tit" stole a grain of corn from the crib and carried it off
to the tree in front of us, where he took it in his claw, and proceeded
to pick the choicest morsel out of it. Presently another tufted rogue
flew up and there were some "passages of arms," and a flight into
another tree, and in the midst of the fray, alas! the corn was dropped.