coöperation and into personal acquaintanceship as many as possible of
the workers in ornithology. In effecting this, the appointment at the
first congress of the Union of a Committee on the Migration of North
American Birds proved a most efficient means. This committee, with
Dr. C. Hart Merriam at its head, began at once to issue circulars of
instruction and schedules for the return of data to all bird observers
known to the committee, whether members of the Union or not. Thousands
of circulars were thus issued annually, reaching hundreds of earnest
bird students who had before been working alone and without contact
with the leaders in the science, who were thus not only stimulated
and encouraged to fresh endeavor, but were placed in communication
with a central bureau ever ready to aid their efforts. In a short time
the work of this committee outgrew the financial resources of the
Union, and led to the founding of a distinct division of the United
States Department of Agriculture, designated the Division of Economic
Ornithology and Mammalogy, of which the chairman of this committee
was invited to become the official head, and which has since become
the United States Biological Survey. The data on the migration and
geographical distribution of North American birds gathered by this
committee was turned over to this new Division of the Department of
Agriculture for collation and publication, and the work of collecting
further data was continued on an increased scale by the Chief of the
Division of Economic Ornithology and Mammalogy. This has resulted in
the accumulation of an immense amount of valuable material, but little
of which has as yet been published. In 1888 a preliminary report
on 'Bird Migration in the Mississippi Valley,' prepared by Prof.
W. W. Cooke and Mr. Otto Widmann, under the direction of the chief
of the division, was published, forming one of the most important
contributions to the subject of bird migration that has yet appeared. A
second report on 'The Land Birds of the Pacific District,' by Mr. Lyman
Belding, was published in 1890, and, though issued by the California
Academy of Sciences, was the outcome of the work of this committee.
Eventually all of the vast accumulation of data inaugurated by the
Union, and later carried on under the auspices of the United States
Department of Agriculture, relating not only to the migratory movements
of birds but to their distribution, will doubtless be published, with
proper map and other graphic illustrations.
To another important committee appointed at the first congress of the
Union was delegated the investigation of 'The Status of the European
House Sparrow in America.' This committee issued circulars of inquiry,
and made an elaborate preliminary report to the Union, which report
was later, as in the case of the data accumulated by the Migration
Committee, turned over to the Division of Economic Ornithology and
Mammalogy of the United States Department of Agriculture. Under Dr.
Merriam, the investigation was prosecuted with renewed activity,
and a final and authoritative report was issued by the Department
of Agriculture in 1889. It is needless to say that this impartially
conducted report was strongly condemnatory of this burdensome pest.
At the second congress of the Union it appointed a Committee on
Protection of North American Birds, which has been continued to the
present time, and has been the guiding influence in this great economic
and humanitarian work. It has done much to arouse and enlighten public
opinion respecting the enormity of the destruction of birds for
millinery purposes, and to guide legislation for the better protection
of our birds. It early published two important 'bulletins' on the
destruction of birds, and was the origin of the original Audubon
Society, whose president, Dr. George Bird Grinnell, was long one of
the most active members of this committee; through this society, with
chapters throughout the country, the cause of bird protection was
for several years immensely aided. Of late it has become practically
the advisory committee of the existing Audubon Societies which have
recently multiplied so gratifyingly throughout the country, and it
publishes in 'The Auk' an annual report summarizing the work of bird
protection for the year.
In extending a helping hand to casual and isolated observers, the Union
has had a marked influence upon the recent progress of ornithology in
America, as shown by the increase in the number of observers who have
become contributors to 'The Auk,' and the constantly increasing number
who have allied themselves to the Union by membership therein. The
constitution of the Union provides for four classes of members; namely,
(1) Active Members, limited to fifty, and to include only those who
have distinguished themselves as original investigators in ornithology,
and who reside in the United States or Canada; (2) Honorary Members,
limited to twenty-five, and consisting of the most eminent of foreign
ornithologists; (3) Corresponding Members, limited to one hundred, and
consisting mainly also of eminent foreign ornithologists; (4) Associate
Members, unrestricted as to number, but limited to residence in the
United States or Canada. This class includes not only a large number
of experienced field workers, but many college professors, educators,
and persons eminent in other scientific fields, but who are not expert
ornithologists. It is open to all reputable persons whose interest
in ornithology is sufficient to prompt them to seek such a congenial
alliance.
At the first congress forty-seven ornithologists were elected to active
membership--presumably all of the satisfactory candidates available. Of
these forty-seven original members, twenty-four were either present or
took a prominent part in the organization of the Union, and are thus
termed 'Founders.' (The accompanying photograph is a picture of these
founders, made up from separate photographs, it being impracticable
for the members to assemble to be photographed as a group.) This has
remained about the average number, but, as years have passed, the
choice for the few coveted places has become harder and harder each
year to fill, through the rapid increase of not only available but
desirable candidates; so that attainments that would in the earlier
days of the Union have proved ample credentials for admission have now
less weight, in the effort to select the best from a large otherwise
desirable candidacy. The honor of the position has thus become enhanced
through competition of merit. The two foreign classes have remained
practically unchanged as regards numbers. But the class of Associate
Members has increased from about one hundred in 1886 to nearly six
hundred in 1898.
The revenue of the Union is derived entirely from the annual dues
from members ($5 for active members and $3 for associate members) and
subscriptions to 'The Auk.' As the ordinary running expenses of the
Union are but a trifle, all of the proceeds from these sources of
revenue are devoted to the publications of the Union. These include,
besides 'The Auk,' now in its sixteenth volume, the original Code and
Check-List of North American Birds (1886), an Abridged Check-List
(1889), a separate reprint of the Code alone (1892), the second edition
of the Check-List (1895), and nine Supplements to the Check-List
(1889-1899), varying in size from about 8 to 36 pages.
'The Auk,' issued quarterly, consists on the average of about 420
pages per year, with at least four fine colored plates, and a greater
or less number of text figures, including of late numerous half-tone
illustrations of birds in life. As practically all of the funds of the
Union are devoted to its publications, and mainly to 'The Auk,' its
prosperity as regards its size, the frequency and character of its
illustrations, and its influence in promoting the study of ornithology,
is limited only by the proceeds from memberships and subscriptions.
As it aims to meet the interests and the necessities of both the
scientific and the non-scientific reader and contributor, the general
articles, comprising more than half of each number, are about equally
divided between popular and technical papers, while its department
of General Notes (embracing some 15 pages in each number), is about
equally acceptable to both classes, as with more or less technical
matter for the benefit of the expert are blended notes on the habits
and distribution of the lesser known species of our fauna, often
of a highly popular character. The department of Recent Literature
gives more or less extended notices of the current literature of
ornithology, including general works, popular and technical, and of
all the principal writings relating to American birds, whether faunal,
economic, popular, or technical.
The meetings of the Union occur in November of each year, and
heretofore have been held alternately in New York, Washington, and
Cambridge or Boston. The present year the meeting, which will be the
seventeenth congress of the Union, will be held in Philadelphia, Nov.
13-17, 1899. As usual, the public sessions, beginning on the 14th, will
be open to the general public, to which all who are interested in birds
are cordially invited.
[Illustration: AMERICAN BITTERNS
Two of a brood of four birds about one week old, at which age they
showed no fear of man
Photographed from nature by E. H. Tabor, Meridian, N. Y., May 31, 1898]
[Illustration: AMERICAN BITTERNS
The four members of the brood, of which two are shown above, about two
weeks old, when they showed marked fear of man
Photographed from nature by F. M. Chapman, Meridian, N. Y., June 8,
1898]
The Angler's Reveille
BY HENRY VAN DYKE
What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night,
And all the drowsy little stars have fallen asleep in light;
'Tis then a wandering wind awakes, and runs from tree to tree,
And borrows words from all the birds to sound the reveille.
[Illustration]
This is the carol the Robin throws
Over the edge of the valley;
Listen how boldly it flows,
Sally on sally:
_Tirra-lirra, down the river,
Laughing water all a-quiver.
Day is near, clear, clear.
Fish are breaking,
Time for waking.
Tup, tup, tup!
Do you hear? All clear.
Wake up!_
The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark,
And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark;
Now forth she fares through friendly woods and diamond-fields of dew,
While every voice cries out "Rejoice!" as if the world were new.
[Illustration]
This is the ballad the Bluebird sings,
Unto his mate replying,
Shaking the tune from his wings
While he is flying:
_Surely, surely, surely,
Life is dear
Even here.
Blue above,
You to love,
Purely, purely, purely._
There's wild azalea on the hill, and roses down the dell,
And just a spray of lilac still abloom beside the well;
The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink,
Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to drink.
[Illustration]
This is the song of the Yellow-throat,
Fluttering gaily beside you;
Hear how each voluble note
Offers to guide you:
_Which way, sir?
I say, sir,
Let me teach you,
I beseech you!
Are you wishing
Jolly fishing?
This way, sir!
Let me teach you._
Oh come, forget your foes and fears, and leave your cares behind,
And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful, quiet mind;
For be your fortune great or small, you'll take what God may give,
And all the day your heart will say, "'Tis luck enough to live."
[Illustration]
This is the song the Brown Thrush flings
Out of his thicket of roses;
Hark how it warbles and rings,
Mark how it closes:
_Luck, luck,
What luck?
Good enough for me!
I'm alive, you see.
Sun shining, no repining;
Never borrow idle sorrow;
Drop it! Cover it up!
Hold your cup!
Joy will fill it,
Don't spill it!
Steady, be ready,
Love your luck!_
The Prairie Horned Lark
BY ROBERT W. HEGNER
With photographs from nature by the author
[Illustration]
At intervals throughout the winter, but more often after the first of
February, flocks of hardy little brown birds may be seen about Decorah,
Ia., wandering from place to place in search of food. They are the
Prairie Horned Larks, harbingers of approaching spring. Some weeks
later, when the snow has melted, they seek their favorite haunts in the
pasture lands, select a slight elevation from the surrounding surface,
and proceed to build their nests. They first dig a hole three inches
wide and three inches deep in the softened ground, and then line it on
the bottom and sides to the depth of an inch with dry grasses, making a
warm nest, level with the surface. I accidentally discovered the first
one this season on April 9. It was nicely lined with vegetable down in
addition to the usual lining of dry grasses, and was finished ready
for the eggs. I returned in a week, but, as the mother bird was not
at home, had to content myself with a photograph of the three finely
spotted eggs which it then contained. Some children who observed my
movements may be held responsible for the destruction of the nest, as
two days later I could find nothing but the hole from which it had
been torn. After a short search another Lark flushed from a nest of
three eggs almost identical with the first and about 300 yards from
it. Unless incubation is far advanced they seldom flush from directly
under foot, nor do they run along the ground first, after the manner
of a great many of the ground builders, but keep a good look out, and
fly straight from the nest when anyone comes within fifty feet of them.
It is needless to say that it takes sharp eyes to discover their exact
position.
[Illustration: NEST AND EGGS OF HORNED LARK]
[Illustration: HORNED LARK AT NEST]
At my arrival on the bright, sunny morning of April 24, the Lark was
at home, and I had another opportunity of trying to photograph her.
I focused the camera three feet from the nest and retired to the end
of my 60-foot rubber tube. The gophers seemed to be less afraid of me
than the Lark, and several of them played together some ten feet away.
One little striped rascal began gnawing at the rubber tube, and I was
forced to frighten him away. This tube greatly puzzled the Lark, for
in running around the camera she always came to a halt upon reaching
it, and it was only after repeated trials and much excitement that she
screwed up courage enough to hop over. Twenty minutes seemed to be
sufficient time to reassure her, and with head lowered she hastened to
the nest, looked in, and settled down upon the eggs. An exposure of
one twenty-fifth of a second with stop 16 shows her as she was looking
into the nest. While I reset my shutter and put in a new plate the Lark
left the nest, but this time it took her only two minutes to return. A
photograph of a young bird was taken on May 7. The pair of birds that
were feeding this young one had already built a second nest, thinner
and more loosely put together than the first, and were incubating four
eggs.
The enemies of the Prairie Horned Lark seem to be very numerous. The
nest and four eggs mentioned above were plowed under to facilitate corn
planting, while innumerable nests are destroyed earlier in the season,
when the farmers 'break sod.' The first nests in March and April are
often subject to great changes of temperature. Although they may be
built in warm, sunny weather, a sudden cold wave often covers them with
snow and imbeds them in ice.
While waiting for the Lark to become accustomed to the camera, I had
an excellent opportunity of observing its song flight. Lying there
on my back, I enjoyed a splendid exhibition of one of this bird's
peculiar traits. From a point a hundred yards from where I lay a happy
songster suddenly arose, flying upward at an angle of 45 degrees, not
continuously, but in short stretches. When at a great elevation he
began to sing, taking short, quick wing strokes, and singing while he
sailed. In this way a circle 300 yards in diameter was crossed and
recrossed until fully five minutes had passed, when, suddenly closing
his wings, he shot downward like a bullet, slowly catching himself on
nearing the ground and curving outward to his starting point. Several
similar exhibitions were carried on in exactly the same manner, the
time not varying by half a minute. Though the song lacks many of
the fine qualities of other birds, it clearly expresses the joy and
happiness of the singer. With thrills of pleasure we hear it echo over
the hills, and bless the little creature, hoping that in the 'struggle
for existence' he may thrive and wax exceeding strong.
[Illustration: SCREECH OWL
Photographed from life by A. L. Princehorn]
A Pleasant Acquaintance with a Hummingbird
BY C. F. HODGE
Clark University, Worcester, Mass.
[Illustration]
IN the Nature Study course of the Summer School, a little time was
devoted to the honey bee, life of the hive, care and management, and
especially the work of bees in cross-pollination of flowers and fruits.
The closing "laboratory exercise" in the subject consisted in a honey
spread, the honey being removed from the glass hive in the window of
the laboratory, in the presence of the class, and distributed with hot
biscuits and butter, cream and fresh milk. The spread was pronounced
the most enjoyable "laboratory work" ever done by members of the
class, but to crown the event in the most exquisite way possible, a
Hummingbird flew into an open window, and darting, unafraid, in and
out among the noisy groups of fifty or more busy people, it rifled the
various flowers with which the laboratory was decorated. In closing the
windows for the night it was accidentally imprisoned, and on visiting
the room next morning (Sunday), I found it still humming about the
flowers. Thinking that it might be a female, with nestlings awaiting
its return, I gently placed an insect net over it with the intention of
passing it out of the window. It proved, however, on closer inspection,
to be a young male, so I thought it could do no harm to keep it a day
or two for acquaintance sake. No sooner was my finger, with a drop
of honey on it, brought within reach, than it thrust its bill and
long tongue out through the net and licked up the honey with evident
delight. Releasing it from the net, I dropped honey into a number
of the flowers, sprinkling water over them at the same time, and it
immediately began feasting and drinking. As it flew about it taught me
its bright little chirp, evidently a note of delight and satisfaction.
When I visited the laboratory again at noon, I took in my hand a few
heads of red clover and a nasturtium with its horn filled with honey.
On giving the chirp a few times, it flew straight to the flowers in
my hand, probed each clover tube, drank its fill from the nasturtium,
and, perching contentedly on my finger, wiped its bill, preened its
feathers, spread out its tail, scratched its head, and for the space
of a minute or two looked me over and made himself the most delightful
of tiny friends. The next time I entered the room, about two hours
later, he flew to the door to meet me, and this time I took him home,
the better to care for him during the afternoon and evening. In the
course of the afternoon about a dozen friends called. Each one was
provided with a nasturtium into which a drop of honey had been placed,
and nearly the whole time the little bird was flying from one to the
other, perching on fingers or sipping from the flowers held in the hand
or buttonhole, to the delight of everybody, none of the company having
ever seen a live Hummingbird so close by.
[Illustration: NEST AND EGGS OF HUMMINGBIRD SEEN FROM ABOVE
Situated in an apple tree 8 feet from the ground
Photographed from nature by E. G. Tabor, Meridian, N. Y., June 16, 1897]
In the evening he went to roost high up on a chandelier, and in trying
to catch him with the net to put him in a safe cage for the night,
he fell like a dead bird to the carpet. I held him warm in my hand,
thinking that he was about to breathe his last, but anxious to save the
precious little life if possible, I very gently opened the bill and
inserted a pellet of crushed spiders' eggs as large as a good-sized
sweet pea, following it with a drop of water. He had been feigning,
probably, as they are known to do; at any rate, in a minute he was as
bright and lively as ever. His room for the night was a large insect
cage of wire screen filled with convenient twigs and a large bowl of
flowers. At five in the morning I fed him honey and young spiders, and
again at six. At eight I had a lecture, the subject of which happened
to be the taming of wild birds and attracting them about our homes.
Removing all flowers from his cage to let his appetite sharpen for the
two intervening hours, I set the cage on a table by my side on the
lecture platform. I had taken pains to have two fresh nasturtiums in
my buttonhole, one well loaded with honey, the other filled with the
juices of crushed spiders and spiders' eggs. On reaching the topic
of approaching birds in the right way, appealing to them along the
lines of their tastes and appetites, appealing to the "right end" of
a bird, I had only to open the door, give the familiar chirp, and
the little charmer was probing the flowers. Then, as if anxious to
show off, he again perched on my hand and went through his _post
prandial_ toilet, thus giving the class an idea of bird-taming which
no amount of books or anything I might have said could have possibly
equaled. Many expressed themselves as never having seen so successful
a "demonstration." Some said that I must be in league with higher
powers, and it all must have been "providential." This may be true, for
anything I know to the contrary. But it may have been simply improving
the opportunities of a happy accident; and 'accidents,' we know, "never
happen among the Hottentots." If flowers and honey can do it, at any
rate, such accidents shall be more frequent about my home in the future.
A Peculiarity of a Caged Skylark
BY H. M. COLLINS
[Illustration]
Do birds reverse the usual order of things, and from a serious and
stolid youth develop mature playfulness? I have been led to ask myself
this question by observing the extraordinary playfulness exhibited
by a pet Skylark in extreme old age. Upon hearing the owner of the
bird declare, "Dickie has reached his dotage, and, is now in a state
of second childhood," it occurred to me that birds have no season of
youthful frivolity such as Mother Nature accords to her other children.
We are accustomed to associate the idea of youth with playfulness: we
picture to ourselves the lamb frisking in the meadows, the frolicsome
kitten playing upon the hearth, and we groan inwardly when we meditate
upon the destructive propensities of our pet puppies, but we think of
our young feathered friends as lying inert in their nests, gaping wide
open their yellow-edged beaks incessantly for food, and apparently
interested in nothing else.
A caged Skylark is a deplorable object generally, but the Lark of
which I am about to write was a bird 'with a history,' and one, whose
cage was not a prison but a home. While his native meadow (in Ireland)
was being mowed, one of his wings was struck by the mowing-machine
and the last joint terribly mutilated. One of the workmen picked up
the poor little sufferer and gave him to a little boy whose father
was something of a naturalist and a great lover of birds. Examination
of the shattered wing revealed the fact that amputation of the last
joint would be necessary if the bird's life was to be preserved.
The operation was performed, and the little patient was placed in
a very large cage carpeted with fresh, green sods. He was well
supplied with food and water; the injured wing healed rapidly; he
became surprisingly tame, and soon appeared to enjoy life thoroughly.
Occasionally, he was permitted to enjoy his freedom in a large room,
but after running about awhile, always seemed glad to return to his
cage, the door of which was left open, so that he might go home when he
pleased.