BEFORE a leaf unfolds or a flower spreads its petals, even before the
buds swell, and while yet there is snow on the ground, the birds tell us
that spring is at hand. The Song Sparrow sings "Spring, spring, spring,
sunny days are here"; the Meadowlark blows his fife, the Downy rattles
his drum, and company after company of Grackles in glistening black
coats, and of Red-wings with scarlet epaulets, go trooping by. For the
succeeding three months, in orderly array, the feathered army files by,
each member of it at his appointed time whether he comes from the
adjoining State or from below the equator.
Besides the Blackbirds, March brings the Robin and Bluebird, Woodcock,
Phoebe, Meadowlark, Cowbird, Kingfisher, Mourning Dove, Fox, Swamp,
White-throated and Field Sparrows.
Near New York City the New Year of the birds has now passed its infancy
and in April each day adds perceptibly to its strength. 'Pussy' willows
"creep out along each bough," skunk cabbage rears its head in low, wet
woods, and in sun-warmed places early wild flowers peep from beneath the
sodden leaves. With swelling ranks the migratory army moves more
steadily northward. Species which arrived late in March become more
numerous, and to them are soon added the Vesper, Savannah, and Chipping
Sparrows, and other seed-eaters; and when, with increasing warmth,
insects appear, the pioneer Phoebe is followed by other insect-eating
birds, like the Swallows, Pipit, Hermit Thrush, Myrtle and Palm
Warblers, Louisiana Water-thrush and Ruby-crowned Kinglet.
The true bird student will now pass every available moment afield,
eagerly watching for the return of old friends and more eagerly still
for possible new ones. But enjoyment of this yearly miracle should not
be left only to the initiated. We need not be ornithologists to be
thrilled when the Robin's song in March awakes long silent echoes, or
the Thrasher's solo rings loud and clear on an April morning. The
Catbird singing from near his last year's home in the thickening
shrubbery, the House Wren whose music bubbles over between bustling
visits to an oft-used bird-box, the Chimney Swift twittering cheerily
from an evening sky, may be heard without even the effort of listening
and each one, with a hundred others, brings us a message if we will but
accept it. And I make no fanciful statement when I say that it is a
message we can ill afford to lose.
[Illustration: "RED-WINGS WITH SCARLET EPAULETS GO TROOPING BY"]
With May come the Thrushes--Wood Thrush, Veery, Olive-back and
Gray-cheek, the last two en route to the north--the Orioles, Cuckoos,
Vireos, and the Bobolink who began his four thousand mile journey from
northern Argentina in March. But May is preëminently the Month of
Warblers, "most beautiful, most abundant, and least known" of our birds.
To the eight species which have already arrived, there may be added over
twenty more, represented by a number of individuals beyond our power to
estimate. We may hear the Robin, Thrasher, and Wren, without listening,
but we will see few Warblers without looking; and this, in a measure,
accounts for the fascination which attends their study.
After May 15 there is an evident thinning in the ranks of the migrating
army, and by June 1 we shall see only a few stragglers. The Transient
Visitors will have gone to their more northern homes and our bird
population will then consist only of the ever present Permanent
Residents and the Summer Residents which the great northward march of
the birds has brought us from the South.
Although June may be called the Month of Nests, nest-building begins
long before the migration ends. Some Owls and Hawks lay in March, and
the Bluebird, White-breasted Nuthatch and Robin have eggs by April 20,
while most of our birds go to housekeeping during the latter half of
May. Nevertheless, it is in June that their domestic life is at its
height; and to the student of birds' habits this is by far the most
interesting month in the year.
[Illustration: TREE SWALLOWS . . . RESTING IN ROWS ON WAYSIDE WIRES]
Birds that raise two or even three broods will still be occupied with
household affairs in July, but one-brooded birds, having launched their
families, will seek retirement to undergo the trying ordeal of molt,
whereby they will get a complete new costume. Often this will be quite
unlike the one in which they arrived from the South--as the student will
discover, sometimes to his confusion! In August, the Month of Molt, the
seclusion sought by many of our summer birds induces the belief that
they have left us, but toward the latter part of the month they
reappear. The first week in August virtually marks the end of the song
season. The Wood Pewee and Red-eyed Vireo remain in voice throughout the
month, but the great chorus which has made May, June and most of July
vocal, we shall not hear before another spring--so short is the time
when we are blessed by the songs of birds.
Meanwhile the feathered army has begun its retreat to winter quarters.
As early as July 15, Tree Swallows will arrive and by the end of the
month will be seen resting in rows on wayside telegraph wires, or en
route to their roosts in the marshes. In the now heavily leaved forests
the returning Warblers and Flycatchers will not be so easily observed as
they were in May, but in September they become too abundant to be
overlooked. The southward movement grows in strength until late
September, when the greater part of the insect-eating birds have left
us, and it is terminated by the frosts, and consequent falling leaves,
of October.
But just as in the spring some of the northbound migrants drop from the
ranks to spend the summer with us, so in the fall some of the southbound
travelers will remain with us for the winter. The Junco, which we are
wont to think of as only a winter bird, arrives the latter part of
September to remain until April, and with him come the Golden-crowned
Kinglet, Brown Creeper and Winter Wren--all to stay until spring.
October will bring the Horned Lark, Pine Finch, Snow Bunting, Tree
Sparrow and Northern Shrike and these birds with the ones just
mentioned, and the ever faithful Permanent Residents, give us a goodly
winter company.
But the possibilities do not end here; there may be Redpolls, American
and also White-winged Crossbills, perhaps Pine Grosbeaks, and, best of
all, Evening Grosbeaks, who of recent years have been coming to us more
or less regularly from no man knows where.
So from one year's end to the other, there is not a month, a week or day
which has not interests of its own. The bird student may pass his life
in one place, but he can never say "I have finished" for the morrow may
bring some new bird or new fact. How immeasurably this association with
the birds adds to the joy of life! What new meanings their comings and
goings give to the changing seasons; the very air is made eloquent by
their calls and songs. Why should we not all "come at these
enchantments"?
[Illustration: IN OCTOBER, WHEN MIGRATING HAWKS DOT THE SKY, THE GREAT
SOUTHWARD MARCH OF THE BIRDS IS NEARING ITS END.]
A POCKET
MUSEUM