BY FRANK M. CHAPMAN
[Illustration]
After seeing Dr. Roberts' interesting Chickadee photographs, published
in the first number of Bird-Lore, my ambition was aroused to discover a
nest of this species so situated as to afford an opportunity to secure
equally charming pictures of Chickadee life. Late in May the desire
was gratified by the discovery, at Englewood, N. J., of a Chickadee's
nest in a white birch stub, about four feet from the ground, a height
admirably suited to the needs of bird photography.
I will not here present the results of my study of the parent birds
during their period of incubation, but will pass at once to that part
of my experience which relates to their progeny.
Returning to the nest on June 12th, nothing was to be seen of either
parent, and I feared that they or their offspring had fallen victims
to the countless dangers which beset nesting birds and their young.
Looking about for some clue to their fate, I found on the ground, near
the nest-stub, the worn tail-feathers of the female bird. The molting
season had not yet arrived, nor would she have shed all these feathers
at the same moment. There could, therefore, be only one interpretation
of their presence. Some foe, probably a Sharp-shinned or Cooper's Hawk,
since the predaceous mammals for the most part hunt at night when
the Chickadee would be snugly sleeping in her nest, had made a dash
and grasped her by the tail, which she had sacrificed in escaping. A
moment later the theory was supported by the appearance of a subdued
looking Chickadee, _sans_ tail, and I congratulated her on her
fortunate exchange of life for a member which of late had not been very
decorative and of which, in any event, nature would have soon deprived
her.
The young proved to be nearly ready to fly, and carefully removing the
front of their log-cabin, a sight was disclosed such as mortal probably
never beheld before, and Chickadee but rarely.
Six black and white heads were raised and six yellow-lined mouths
opened in expressive appeal for food. But this was not all; there was
another layer of Chickadees below, how many it was impossible to say
without disentangling a compact wad of birds in which the outlines of
no one bird could be distinguished. So I built a piazza, as it were,
at the Chickadee threshold, in the shape of a perch of proper size,
and beneath, as a life-net, spread a piece of mosquito-bar. Then I
proceeded to individualize the ball of feathers; one, two, three, to
seven were counted without undue surprise, but when an eighth and ninth
were added, I marvelled at the energy which had supplied so many mouths
with food, and at the same time wondered how many caterpillars had been
devoured by this one family of birds.
Not less remarkable than the number of young--and no book I have
consulted records so large a brood--was their condition. Not only did
they all appear lusty, but they seemed to be about equally developed,
the slight difference in strength and size which existed being easily
attributable to a difference in age, some interval, doubtless, having
elapsed between the hatching of the first and last egg.
This fact would have been of interest had the birds inhabited an
open nest, or a nest large enough for them all to have had an equal
opportunity to receive food, but where only two-thirds of their number
could be seen from above at once it seems remarkable, that, one or more
failing to receive his share of food--and a very little neglect would
have resulted fatally--had not been weakened in consequence and crushed
to death by more fortunate members of the brood. Nor was their physical
condition the only surprising thing about the members of this Chickadee
family; each individual was as clean as though he had been reared in a
nest alone, and an examination of the nest showed that it would have
been passed as perfect by the most scrupulous sanitary inspector. It
was composed of firmly padded rabbit's fur, and except for the sheaths
worn off the growing feathers of the young birds, was absolutely
clean. Later I observed that the excreta of the young were enclosed in
membranous sacs, which enabled the parents to readily remove them from
the nest.
The last bird having been placed in the net, I attempted to pose them
in a row on the perch before their door. The task reminded me of almost
forgotten efforts at building card houses which, when nearly completed,
would be brought to ruin by an ill-placed card. How many times each
Chickadee tumbled or fluttered from his perch I cannot say. The soft,
elastic net spread beneath them preserved them from injury, and bird
after bird was returned to his place so little worse for his fall that
he was quite ready to try it again. On several occasions eight birds
were induced to take the positions assigned them, then in assisting the
ninth to his allotted place the balance of the birds on either side
would be disturbed and down into the net they would go.
These difficulties, however, could be overcome, but not so the failure
of the light at the critical time, making it necessary to expose with a
wide open lens at the loss of a depth of focus.
The picture presented, therefore, does not do the subject justice. Nor
can it tell of the pleasure with which each fledgling for the first
time stretched its wings and legs to their full extent and preened its
plumage with before unknown freedom.
At the same time, they uttered a satisfied little _dee-dee-dee_, in
quaint imitation of their elders. When I whistled their well-known
_phe-be_ note they were at once on the alert, and evidently expected to
be fed.
[Illustration: A CHICKADEE FAMILY
Photographed from nature by F. M. Chapman]
The birds were within two or three days of leaving the nest, and the
sitting over, came the problem of returning the flock to a cavity
barely two inches in diameter, the bottom of which was almost filled by
one bird.
I at once confess a failure to restore anything like the condition
in which they were found, and when the front of their dwelling
was replaced Chickadees were overflowing at the door. If their
healthfulness had not belied the thought, I should have supposed it
impossible for them to exist in such close quarters.
A few days later I found their home deserted, and as no other pair of
Chickadees was known to nest in the vicinity, I imagine them to compose
a troop of birds I sometimes meet in the neighborhood.
Richardson's Owl
BY P. B. PEABODY
With photographs from nature by the author
[Illustration: RICHARDSON'S OWL]
[Illustration]
ON the thirteenth of April last, at Hallock, Minn., while afield in
the morning after Migration Report data, I stumbled suddenly upon a
Richardson's Owl, in a willow bush, four feet up, on a brush-land
side-hill, two hundred yards above the river. A strong wind was
blowing, and kept the willow stems a-swaying and the feathers
fluttering, while the dullness of an overcast sky made quick exposures
impossible. Nevertheless, I hurried home, a mile away, and returned
with camera and plates,--'Crown' and 'Stanley.' The bird was still _in
situ_, and leaning, as before, against the upright stem nearest him, as
a brace against the wind. With stop 16, or a little larger, and time
1/5 to 1/2 second, both according to the conditions of wind and sky,
eight exposures were made, beginning at five feet distance, and with
waits for lulls in the wind. The bird seemed fearless, but I dared not
try to put him on the alert, nor cause him to open his eyes. The eighth
exposure was made at about two feet, the camera leisurely dismounted,
and the bird then quietly caught about the back, with the left hand,
while his attention was distracted with the right.
[Illustration: RICHARDSON'S OWL]
The little captive showed no fight nor did he try to escape so long as
I held him by the feet, in an upright position. But when his body was
clasped he would struggle vigorously. With all the handling I gave him
in taking weights and measures, the only wounding he caused my hands
was made in his attempts to secure a better grasp of my holding hand.
While not actually tame, from the first he showed ecstatic delight
in my stroking of the feathers on the back of his head,--chirping
delightedly during the process, with much the manner and voice of a
chicken when tucked under the maternal wing.
While spending his first night of captivity in my study, pending
careful examination, he dropped upon my book-cases several casts, which
are still awaiting analysis. At noon of the second day he was placed
in the garret, where he had a measure of darkness and plenty of wing
room. Here he ate readily the heads of food that was left convenient,
varying this occupation with the tearing to pieces of an old Cooper's
Hawk skin. So far as I could judge, he ate only on alternate days.
During the eight days of his sojourn with me, no increase of tameness
was shown; and he would fly when I came near, seeking the darkest
cranny of the garret, scolding me often with the characteristic
anger-note of all the smaller Hawks and Owls. Soon my captive
found a permanent home in the family of the foster-father of
Minnesota ornithology, where, I was soon informed, he became quickly
domesticated,--eating bits of steak from a chop-stick, beheading
English Sparrows with neat despatch, and drinking from a teaspoon.
=For Teachers and Students=
An 'Advisory Council'
[Illustration]
It gives us unusual pleasure to announce a plan, the fulfilment of
which, already assured, will, we believe, be of great assistance to
bird students and exert an important influence on the increase in our
knowledge of North American birds.
Realizing from a most fortunate experience how greatly the past-master
in ornithology may aid the beginner, we have felt that it would
be an admirable scheme to form an 'Advisory Council,' composed of
leading ornithologists throughout the United States and Canada, who
would consent to assist students by responding to their requests for
information or advice, the student being thus brought into direct
communication with an authority on the birds of his own region.
The response to our appeal has been most gratifying. Without exception
the ornithologists whom we have addressed have cordially endorsed the
proposed plan, and signified their willingness to coöperate with us in
this effort to reach the isolated worker. Nearly every state in the
Union and province in Canada has been heard from, and we expect in
our next number to publish the names and addresses of the more than
fifty prominent ornithologists who will form Bird-Lore's 'Advisory
Council.'--Ed.
"Humanizing" the Birds
CAROLINE G. SOULE
[Illustration]
IN the first number of Bird-Lore the author of 'Bird Studies for
Children' says: "Most bird stories will interest them [children],
especially if the birds are humanized for them by the teller of the
tale." Humanizing, in this connection, means endowing with human
characteristics, and is a process much in vogue just now among writers
of nature-study books and papers for the use of children and teachers.
Let us see if it is worth doing--or even is justifiable.
Birds possess some characteristics or qualities which are also
possessed by human beings, and by other animals. These qualities
are not merely "human" then, but are common to many species of
creatures. Since birds already have these qualities, there is no need
of endowing them with them. To "humanize" the birds by ascribing to
them human qualities which they do not and cannot possess, is only to
misrepresent them, and stories which so humanize them are of no more
value, as nature-study or bird-study, than so many fairy-tales. More
than this--they are positively harmful because they give, as facts,
statements about existing creatures which are not true. This is not
bird-study; it is only telling stories which interest the children,
and which have no value except in keeping them quiet. The children
are not interested in the real birds, for they are not told about
them. They are interested in the stories, invented for this end, about
creatures which the story-teller _calls_ birds but which are only
human characteristics draped on bird forms. Very slight changes would
be needed to make the same stories fit any humanized animal. The real
nature of the bird is left out of these humanized bird stories and the
loss is very great, as always when truth is left out.
To tell of "Mr. and Mrs. Robin" is well enough, for the titles merely
mean the male and female. To represent them as talking is well enough,
for they certainly communicate with each other and their young, and
putting their communications into human speech is merely translating
them. But to represent them as uttering highly moral speeches is all
wrong, for these are beyond the power of the birds. The moment that the
story humanizes them in any such way it becomes of no value, because it
is false to nature.
The humanizing process is lavishly applied to all sorts of creatures,
even to plants.
For instance, in a very popular book occurs the following:--"And so
the witch-hazel, knowing that neither boy nor girl, nor bird nor beast
nor wind, will come to the rescue of its little ones, is obliged to
take matters into its own hands, and this is what it does." This is an
extreme case of humanizing. The writer states that this brainless plant
_knows_ that its seeds will not be scattered by children, animals or
wind. This implies that the plant is conscious of its seeds; that it
realizes the importance of their distribution; that it knows what boys,
girls, birds, animals and wind are; that it knows how the seeds of
other plants are distributed; and that it plans a method of scattering
its own seed! This is certainly more mental power than we are warranted
in ascribing to a plant. But children are much interested in the story,
and think the witch-hazel very clever to plan so ingenious a way of
distributing its seeds. That it is not true does not trouble them,
because they do not know it, and I can learn of very few teachers
using this book, who have thought enough about the subjects treated
to realize that they are so humanized as to be untrue to their own
natures. I quote this as an instance of the lengths to which humanizing
may be carried without discovery by the average reader.
Humanizing the creatures takes them out of their own place in Nature,
by endowing them with powers higher than they can really possess.
It sets aside all the laws of evolution, and is not only untrue to
the nature of the individual, but to the principles which underlie
all Nature. Young children are not ready for these general laws and
principles, but it cannot be good pedagogics to give them ideas in
direct contradiction to all those laws which must be taught them a
little later, and which will at once prove the falseness of this
earlier teaching.
"Interest" is not everything in teaching children. Truth counts for
more in the long run, and, especially in Nature study, may be made
quite as interesting as "humanization."
'On the Ethics of Caging Birds'
To the Editor of 'Bird-Lore:'
I thank you for offering me an opportunity to be heard in my own
defense. But controversy is--if possible--more distasteful to me than
injustice. Therefore, while it is painful to be misrepresented, I will
answer my critics only by saying that they have entirely--I do not say
wilfully--misunderstood me, and that no one who knows me could for an
instant believe me guilty of "favoring" or "encouraging," the caging,
the wearing, or the eating of our little brothers, the birds.
Olive Thorne Miller.
=For Young Observers=
The Birds' Christmas Tree
How many of the younger readers of Bird-Lore know that in Norway,
birds, as well as children, have Christmas trees? Indeed, it is said
that the children do not enjoy their own gifts until they know the
birds have been provided for.
Concerning this beautiful custom of putting out a yule sheaf for the
birds, Dr. Leonhard Stejneger, the eminent Norwegian ornithologist,
writes us that the sheaves are usually of barley or oats, and are
placed on high poles standing either in the yard or nailed to the gable
end of one of the houses, preferably the storehouse or "stabbur," or on
the stable, but always where they can be seen from the dwelling house.
Dr. Stejneger adds that the origin of the custom is shrouded in the
mystery of the mythological ages.
[Illustration: THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS TREE
From the painting of A. Tideman, published in 'Norwegian Pictures,'
London, 1885.]
Here, then, is a country where, as far as anyone knows, the birds
have always had a Christmas tree, while in America most birds, I
imagine, consider themselves lucky if they chance to find a stray
crumb on Christmas morning. So let us all be good Norwegians this
coming Christmas and see that the birds are well supplied, if not
with sheaves--at least with crumbs, seed, and grain for the Juncos
and Sparrows, suet, ham-bones, and bacon rinds for the Woodpeckers,
Chickadees, and Nuthatches. And then let us improve on the Norwegian
usage by making every winter day Christmas for the birds, so that no
matter how deep the snow, they may always be sure of a meal. Then,
next March, write and tell Bird-Lore of your winter guests, who they
were, and what you have learned of their habits. To the boy or girl of
fourteen years, or under, who sends us the best account of his or her
experience in feeding the birds this winter, we will give a copy of
Mrs. Wright's 'Citizen Bird' or 'Wabeno.'--Ed.
The Little Brown Creeper
BY GARRETT NEWKIRK
[Illustration: BROWN CREEPER
Photographed from a mounted specimen]
"Although I'm a bird, I give you my word
That seldom you'll know me to fly;
For I have a notion about locomotion,
The little Brown Creeper am I,
Dear little Brown Creeper am I.
"Beginning below, I search as I go
The trunk and the limbs of a tree,
For a fly or a slug, a beetle or bug;
They're better than candy for me,
Far better than candy for me.
"When people are nigh I'm apt to be shy,
And say to myself, 'I will hide,'
Continue my creeping, but carefully keeping
Away on the opposite side,
Well around on the opposite side.
"Yet sometimes I peek while I play hide and seek,
If you're nice I shall wish to see _you_:
I'll make a faint sound and come quite around,
And creep like a mouse in full view,
Very much like a mouse to your view."
=Notes from Field and Study=
An Interesting Phoebe's Nest
[Illustration: NEST OF PHOEBE
Photographed from nature]
The accompanying illustration shows an interesting Phoebe's nest. It
is well-known that this bird prefers to build close to some overhead
protection, but I have never seen, and have heard of only one other
similar structure, showing such evidence of forethought by the builder;
for this bird has constructed a pedestal by means of which her nest was
raised to the desired height.
The location chosen was three feet or so back under the piazza roof
of a lonely, unused summer cottage by the shore of Webster lake, in
Franklin, N. H.
The foundations were begun on a door-cap to the left of, although
almost in touch with, an upright cleat. Soon the builder made a turn to
the right, that the pedestal might rest firmly against this cleat. From
this point the work continued perpendicularly full twelve inches, with
the breadth of about three inches and a thickness of one and one-half
inches. Upon this the enlargement was made for the nest proper, which
was destined to safely cradle her brood of four.--Ellen E. Webster,
_Franklin Falls, N. H._
[Two years ago John Burroughs showed us a nest similar to the one
here described, built beneath the eaves, on a slight projection in
the rough hewn rock of the railway station at West Park, N. Y.--Ed.]
A Useful Nest-Holder
After the leaves fall many deserted birds' nests will be exposed to
view. The larger number will still be found serviceable for study, and
in collecting them a note of the site, height from the ground, if in a
tree or bush, etc., should be made to aid in their identification.
[Illustration]
The accompanying cut shows a very useful holder for such specimens. It
was designed by Mr. George B. Sennett, and is made of annealed wire,
about the bottom of which is tied hair wire, as shown. At this stage,
the nest is placed in the holder, the four uprights are cut off to the
required height, and bent in or out, in order to bring them closely to
the sides of the nest; the wrapping with hair wire is then continued
until the nest is firmly bound. In this way such loosely built nests as
those of the Mourning Dove or Cuckoo may be held in shape without in
the least concealing their structure.--Ed.
A Singing Blue Jay
Not long ago, when the snow covered the ground several inches deep,
I heard as sweet a little song as one could expect to hear from a
Warbler in May, come from a clump of small plum trees in the back yard.
Creeping softly in the direction of the sound, I could see nothing
but a stately Blue Jay perched upon one of the upper limbs. I waited
patiently, and soon the song came again, sweet and mellow as before;
this time I could plainly see the Jay's open bill and the muscular
movements of his throat. I could hardly believe my eyes, as I had been
accustomed to hear only harsh sounds from a Jay's throat. I raised to
a standing posture, the Blue Jay flew away. I looked carefully all
about, and no other birds were in sight. This Blue Jay remained in
the neighborhood all winter, and several times I had the pleasure of
hearing his sweet little song.--Frank E. Horack, _Iowa City, Iowa_.
To Hunt Southern Birds
Rockville Centre, L. I., November 9.--O. H. Tuthill and Robert T.
Willmarth, of this village, Benjamin Molitor, of East Rockaway, and
Coles Powell, of Seaford, started yesterday on a bird skinning and
stuffing expedition to the Florida coast. The men went aboard of Mr.
Molitor's little 28-foot sloop, Inner Beach, which is fitted with both
sails and gas engine.
They take the inside route through bays, rivers and canals to Beaufort,
N. C. From there on to their destination they will have to take their
chances outside on the ocean. The men go to shoot all kinds of water
birds, for which there is an unprecedented demand this season by
millinery manufacturers. After being killed, most of the birds will be
skinned and stuffed roughly with cotton, and every week shipments will
be made to New York.
Mr. Tuthill is an old hand in the business. The last time there was a
large demand for birds by the makers of women's headgear, about twelve
years ago, he took an outfit to Florida and during the winter shipped
140,000 bird skins to New York.--_Brooklyn Eagle._
[We met Mr. Tuthill in Key West in February, 1892, and heard him
state that during a preceding winter his party had killed 130,000
birds for millinery purposes, and the information contained in the
above clipping is doubtless, therefore, accurate.--Ed.]
American Ornithologists' Union
The seventeenth annual congress of the American Ornithologists'
Union convened at the Academy of Natural Sciences, in Philadelphia,
on November 13, 1899. At the business meeting held on the night of
that day the following officers were elected for the ensuing year:
President, Robert Ridgway; vice presidents, C. Hart Merriam and C. B.
Cory; secretary, John H. Sage; treasurer, William Dutcher; councilors,
C. F. Batchelder, F. M. Chapman, Ruthven Deane, J. Dwight, Jr., A. K.
Fisher, T. S. Roberts, Witmer Stone. Two corresponding and eighty-two
associate members were elected.
The program for the three days' public sessions, on November 14-16,
included the following papers: