“One reason why I deferred our talk about birds,” said Uncle Elk,
addressing the troop of Boy Scouts who had gathered in the large room of
the bungalow the next evening, “is that you might have more opportunity
to brighten up your knowledge on the subject. Scout Master Hall tells me
that when you learned you were to spend your vacation in southern Maine,
you started in to inform yourselves about the birds which are to be
found in New England. It is impossible under the circumstances that you
should see them all, for the season is not the most favorable and not
even a majority are to be found in this section. Instead of dealing out
a lot of facts, I am going to ask you do it for me. Secretary Rothstein
has given me a list of all the Boy Scouts who are present. There are too
many of you for me to identify separately, so I shall call upon you at
random. I think,” he added with a sly glance at the invalid on his
right, “that I shall except Jack, since he seems to know all about our
feathered inhabitants and would be simply taking my place.
“Starting with Mr. Hall’s Patrol I call upon his leader, Charles A.
Chase, to name the first order as it is generally accepted.”
The alert young man promptly arose and said:
“It is the raptores, which means robbers.”
“What does it include?”
“The falcons proper, hawks, buzzard-hawks, eagles, horned owls, gray
owls and day owls.”
“Very good. Corporal George Robe will name the second order.”
The plump little fellow blushed but did not hesitate.
“Scansores or climbers, which takes in cuckoos and woodpeckers.”
“The third order is so numerous that I can hardly expect any one to
remember the complete list. Will Kenneth Henke name the third order?”
“Insessores or perchers.”
“I will ask Kenneth Mitchell, Robert Snow and Ernest Oberlander to help
you in making out a complete catalogue.”
While these boys did well, they would not have succeeded but for the aid
of Colgate Craig and Robert Rice. Even then Uncle Elk had to supply
several names, for the long list included humming birds, goatsuckers,
screamers, kingfishers, flycatchers, singers, thrushes, mocking birds,
wrens, warblers, tanagers, swallows, shrikes, skylarks, sparrows,
orioles, blackbirds, crows, jays and some others less known.
Alvin Landon had an easy task with the rasores or scratchers, which
embrace the doves, game birds such as the Canada grouse, spruce
partridge, pinnated grouse, ruffed grouse improperly called the
partridge, Virginia partridge, quail and Bob White.
Chester Haynes gave the fifth order as grallatores or waders, which with
its herons, shore birds, plovers, snipes, sandpipers and others are
known to every one.
The sixth and last order as named by Hubert Wood was the natores or
swimmers, with the principal of which every American boy is familiar.
Hubert, with the assistance of Harold Hopkins, named swans, geese,
several kinds of ducks, gulls, terns, divers, loons and grebes.
“That is a pretty full list,” commented Uncle Elk, “but it may be that
Michael has some other waders in mind.”
“That I hev,” responded the Irish youth springing to his feet; “the
first time Alvin and Chester tried to paddle a canoe it tipped over wid
’em—they lacking the sense I showed—and the water not being deep the
same was waders for the time.”
Mike did not smile as he resumed his seat on the floor, though every one
else did.
“Let me remind you,” added Uncle Elk, “that we have simply named the six
orders, without any attempt to particularize. To illustrate will you
name a bird?”
Some one called:
“Let’s talk about the thrush.”
“Very well; its head is a clear cinnamon brown, the under parts white,
sometimes tinged with buff on the breast and thickly marked beneath
except on the chin and throat. The sides of the head are a dark brown,
streaked with white, with maxillary streaks on each side of the throat.
It is a trifle over eight inches long, the wings being a little more
than half of that, and the eggs are usually four in number, of a uniform
light-blue color, without spots and showing a slight tint of green.
“The song thrush is common in Rhode Island, Connecticut and
Massachusetts, but is not often seen in the other New England States. I
have had persons say they saw and heard them in this section, when it
was either the hermit or olive-backed thrush. You may look for their
return from the South about the tenth of May, the two sexes coming at
the same time.
“The great charm of the thrush is its wonderful voice. Hardly has it
arrived when you hear the sweet notes of the male at early dawn or when
twilight is coming on. Very rarely is it heard in the middle of the day,
unless the sky is overcast. The best description of that which cannot be
described is by Nuttall, which so impressed me when I first read it that
I have never forgotten the words. He says:
“‘The prelude to this song resembles almost the double-tonguing of the
flute, blended with a tinkling, shrill, and solemn warble, which
re-echoes from his solitary retreat like the dirge of some recluse, who
shuns the busy haunts of life. The whole air consists usually of four
parts, or bars, which succeed in deliberate tune, finally blending
together in impressive and soothing harmony, becoming more mellow and
sweet at every repetition. Rival performers seem to challenge each other
from various parts of the wood, vying for the favor of their mates with
sympathetic responses and softer tones. And some, waging a jealous
strife, terminate the warm dispute by an appeal to combat and violence.
Like the robin and the thresher, in dark and gloomy weather when other
birds are sheltered and silent, the clear notes of the wood thrush are
heard through the dripping woods from dawn to dusk; so that the sweeter
and more constant is his song. His clear and interrupted whistle is
likewise often nearly the only voice of melody heard by the traveler to
midday, in the heat of summer, as he traverses the silent, dark and
wooded wilderness, remote from the haunts of men.’
“You have all been charmed by the music of this bird and will agree that
this description, while it falls short of the reality, cannot be
excelled. Now, in your rambles you have seen birds with gorgeous
plumage; which one do you consider the most beautiful of all?”
After some discussion, the majority pronounced in favor of the scarlet
tanager.
“Most persons will agree with you, but my preference is for what is
popularly known as the wood duck, which builds its nests in trees and in
size and habits resembles the common duck. The colors shown in the
feathers of this bird to my mind are simply bewildering in their beauty.
“But to return to the tanager. He is found in all parts of New England
but more frequently in the southern portions. A noticeable fact about
this tanager is that it seems to be extending its range. I hear that it
has been seen for the first time in sections where those familiar with
its habits never expected to find it. Will Arthur Mitchell tell me when
it arrives from the South and about its nesting?”
The lad appealed to rose and replied:
“It comes north about the middle of May, looks around for two weeks or
so and then begins building its nest. It prefers oak groves situated
near swamps. The nest is placed on the horizontal limb of a tree not
more than twenty feet above ground.”
“What of the eggs?”
“They vary from three to five in number, and are of a light greenish
blue with spatters of purplish brown. It belongs to the order of
perehers.”
“Is the tanager a useful bird?”
“It is; the males destroy thousands of insects and though the song isn’t
noteworthy, it is pleasant to hear.”
“Will Gordon Calhoun give a general description of this bird?”
“The wings and tail of the male are like black silk velvet, but the main
color is a brilliant blood red. The female wears a more sober dress.”
When the rambling talk had continued for some time longer, Scout Master
Hall asked Uncle Elk to tell them something about bird migration.
“That is an interesting subject over which I with thousands have
speculated and theorized without learning much. It is easy to understand
why the geese from the extreme north hike south with the approach of the
arctic winter, and why many others in more temperate latitudes do the
same, coming north with the return of spring, but some of the migrations
are beyond explanation. I should like to ask what birds make the longest
flights?”
Scout Master Hall and Jack Crandall expressed their views, but the old
man shook his head.
“Since all of you did no more than guess, it was a waste of time. Now
follow me closely. We have no large maps here to place on the wall for
you to study, but you have a fair knowledge of geography and can draw a
mental map that will serve. Picture a map of the western hemisphere.
Have you done so?”
A general nodding of heads.
“You didn’t nod, Mr. Hall.”
“I have the map before my mind’s eye,” replied the Scout Master; “I am
following you.”
“Since the discovery of the North Pole, you have all become familiar
with the contour of the polar regions. Locate the Arctic Islands in, say
seventy-five degrees north latitude; then draw an imaginary line from
those islands down along the coast of Labrador, across to Newfoundland,
and down to Nova Scotia, then over the Atlantic to the Lesser Antilles
in the West Indies, from there to Brazil and across Argentina and end
your line in Patagonia at the extremity of South America.
“You have mentally swept over a tremendous stretch of country and water,
but are not yet through. Push on westward to the Pacific, northward up
the coast, then across Central America and up the Mississippi Valley,
through central Canada and back to the Arctic Islands from which you
started. Truly a long journey and yet it is the yearly itinerary of the
American golden plover, which, measured in miles, is three-fifths of the
distance round the world.”
“You have mentioned one of the most remarkable facts in natural
history,” commented Mr. Hall, who, like every listener, was deeply
impressed.
“Quite true,” replied Uncle Elk, “though there are many equally
inexplicable. I have sometimes fancied that birds resemble men in their
longing for travel. With means of locomotion at their command still far
beyond the skill of our best aviators, what wonder that our little
brothers of the air are impelled to gather the best that can be secured?
“This, however, is a fanciful theory which the naturalists will not
accept. It must be remembered that the majority of golden plovers who
start on this long journey never complete it, for almost every mile is
attended with danger. They are dazzled by the vivid electric lights of
the cities, and confused by the tall buildings, telephone and telegraph
wires, especially on dark nights when the birds fly low. Thousands are
thus killed, besides which adverse gales blow many out to sea, and
blizzards and snowstorms destroy myriads.
“Perhaps we have talked enough about birds,” said Uncle Elk, “but I
shall be glad to answer any questions that may occur to you.”
After a moment’s silence, Mike Murphy rose to his feet. His face, as
usual, was serious even when about to indulge in some of his waggeries,
but this time he was in earnest.
“Maybe it’s mesilf that knows mighty little about birds excipt them as
is met with in Ireland, which isn’t many. There is one that I once heerd
of that belongs to anither counthry.”
“Describe it, Michael,” remarked the old man indulgently.
“It has the bill of a duck, webbed feet, lays eggs, has a furry body and
I belave is what is called a mammal. It’s a mighty qu’ar bird that I’d
like to know the name of.”
In answer to the general smiles Uncle Elk asked:
“Have you ever seen one of the creatures, Michael?”
“Not that I know of, though I have often made search for ’em.”
“Michael has described no fancy creation. Such a thing exists. Can any
one tell me its name?”
Isaac Rothstein replied:
“It is the ornithorhynchus or water mole of Australia, but it is not
classed as a bird.”
“No, although there seems to be some reason why it should be. You see
what a limitless field opens before you when you leave the American
continent to make investigations elsewhere. For a long time to come we
shall find our hands full in our own country.”
“What about the birds that are called _Indians_?” gravely asked Mike.
“There are some facts regarding Maine Indians which are worth
remembering. In 1612, they numbered 38,000. At the close of the French
and Indian War this number had been reduced to a thousand, which is the
aboriginal population to-day. The decrease was due to the fierce wars
which the tribes waged among themselves. The Indians in Maine were four
times as numerous as those in Massachusetts. The Pine Tree State was the
‘dark and bloody ground’ of colonial days.
“In a general way the tribes bore the same names as rivers. Those west
of the Penobscot were of the Abnaki group, and those to the east into
New Brunswick called themselves Etechemins. All belonged to the
Algonquin nation. When King Philip’s War broke out in 1675, the Maine
Indians numbered about 12,000. This was twice the white population and
sufficient to wipe out the settlements nearly to the New Hampshire
border. Finally, in 1759, the Indians in Maine did not number more than
a thousand. They were mainly Penobscots and Passamaquoddies. They
remained faithful to the Americans throughout the Revolution. It is a
curious fact that while the Passamaquoddies have decreased in number
during the last ninety years, the Penobscots have increased to the
extent of seven, the former being slightly more numerous. Both keep up
their tribal conditions, and the Penobscots live in the same village
site that their forefathers occupied before the white men set foot on
the continent.”