calls or "talk." The birds to be heard then are the red-eyed vireo, who
seems never to tire, and now and then the indigo-bird, or the wood
pewee, and best of all, the dear little song sparrow, who keeps up his
cheery songs till the very last.
Then you will know that all the birds are busy putting on their new
suits for their long journey.
XII
WHAT HE EATS
WHAT the bird eats and where he gets his food are useful things for us
to know. It has only lately been found out that birds are the most
valuable of helpers to us.
What we cannot eat ourselves, they are happy to live on, and things that
make us a great deal of trouble are their daily food.
Some of the things they are fond of are little animals, like mice and
ground squirrels, that eat our crops. Others are insects which spoil our
fruit and eat up our vegetables, cankerworms and cutworms, and a hundred
more.
Besides these, many birds eat the seeds of certain weeds that farmers
have to fight all the time.
One reason this helps us so greatly is that birds eat much more for
their size than we do. A boy of six or eight years could not possibly
eat a whole sheep in one day, but a young bird can easily eat more than
his own weight every day.
They want more than three meals too. They need to eat very often. One
catbird will take thirty grasshoppers for his breakfast, and in a few
hours he will want thirty more. So he destroys a great many in a day.
Birds begin eating long before we are out of bed, and keep it up till
night comes again, or as long as they can see.
You must not think the birds are greedy, as a person would be if he ate
every few minutes all day. They are made to do so. It is their business
to destroy insects, small animals, and weeds that trouble us so much,
and the more they eat the better for us.
Let us see where they go for food. Each bird has his own place to work.
The catbird watches the fruit-trees, and all day long eats insects that
are spoiling our fruit or killing the trees. When the cherries are ripe,
we should not forget that he has saved the fruit from insects, and has
well earned a share for himself.
If you spent days and weeks picking off insects, would you not think you
had earned part of the fruit? "For every cherry he eats" (says a man who
has watched him), "he has eaten at least one thousand insects."
The robin eats great numbers of cankerworms, which destroy our apples,
and cutworms, which kill the corn.
The bluebird sits on the fence keeping sharp watch, and every few
minutes flies down and picks up a grasshopper or a cricket, or some such
grass-eating insect.
Woodpeckers hunt over the trunks and limbs of trees. They tap on the
bark and listen, and if they hear a grub stir inside, they cut a hole in
the bark and drag it out. The downy is fond of insects that infest our
apple-trees, and he makes many holes in the trunks. But it does not hurt
the trees. It is good for them, for it takes away the creatures that
were eating them.
Orioles go over the fruit-trees, and pick out tiny insects under the
leaves, and when they find great nests on the branches, they tear them
open and kill the caterpillars that made them.
Little warblers, such as the pretty summer yellow-bird, help to keep our
trees clear, doing most of their work in the tops, where we can hardly
see them.
Swallows fly about in the air, catching mosquitoes and tiny flies that
trouble us.
Very useful to us are the birds who feed upon dead animals, such as the
turkey buzzards, who may be seen any day in our Southern States,
soaring about high in the air, looking for their food.
What they eat is so very unpleasant to us that we are apt to despise the
birds. But we should cherish and feel grateful to them instead. For they
are doing us the greatest kindness. In many of the hot countries people
could not live, if these most useful birds were killed.
Some persons think buzzards find their food by seeing it, and others are
just as sure that they smell it. Perhaps they use both senses.
XIII
MORE ABOUT HIS FOOD
SOME of the big birds work all the time for us. When you see a hawk
sitting very still on a dead limb, what do you suppose he is doing?
A good deal of the time he is looking on the ground for a mouse, or a
ground squirrel, or a rat, or some creature that he likes to eat.
When he sees one of them move in the grass, he flies down and pounces
upon it. Thus he helps the farmer greatly, for all of these little
animals destroy crops.
When it grows dark, hawks stop work and go to sleep. Then the owls, who
can see better in the dusk, come out of the holes where they have been
half sleeping all day. They hunt the same little creatures, most of all
rats and mice, which like best to run about in the night.
Perhaps you have heard that hawks and owls carry off chickens. Many
people who keep chickens shoot every hawk and owl they see. But if they
knew more about them they would not do so. Only two of the common hawks
and one owl[1] disturb chickens. All the others kill thousands of the
little animals that give the farmers so much trouble.
Owls have a curious way of eating mice. They swallow them whole, and
after a while they throw up a queer-looking little ball made of the
bones and fur of the mouse.
You may some time have seen a long-legged heron walking about on the
seashore or in the salt marsh. Now and then he would thrust his long,
sharp bill into something, and lift up his head and swallow. Or you have
noticed a little sandpiper running along on the beach or the bank of a
river.
The heron was probably eating frogs or fish, and the sandpiper some of
the small sea creatures thrown up by the waves. If these were not taken
away they would be very bad for us, and perhaps make us sick.
Not less useful to us than these birds are the whole family of finches.
The goldfinch in bright yellow coat, the purple finch in red, and the
sparrows in plain brown. All of these are fond of seeds as well as
insects, and most of all they like the seeds of some weeds that are hard
to get rid of.
The goldfinch is called the thistle-bird, because he likes best the
seeds of thistles, though he eats the beggar's-ticks too.
The chipping sparrow, the little red-headed bird who comes about our
doors, eats the seeds of fox-tail and crab grasses, that spoil our
lawns.
The white-throated sparrow, a large and very pretty bird, eats the seeds
of smartweed and ragweed. Other finches like bittersweet, sorrel, and
amaranth, all of which we are glad to have them eat.
The seed-eating birds can find their food in winter, even when snow
covers the ground, because the dead weeds hold on to their seeds, and
the snow is not often deep enough to cover them.
Some birds gather their food in the fall, and hide it away where they
can find it in winter. Blue jays collect acorns and beech-nuts, and
store them in a hole in a tree, or some other safe place, to eat when
food is scarce. A woodpecker who lives in the West picks holes in the
bark of a tree, and puts an acorn into each one.
The oddest store I know of was made by a woodpecker. He found a long
crack in a post, and stuffed it full of live grasshoppers. He did not
like dead grasshoppers. He wedged them into the crack so tightly that
they could not get out, and I do not know that they wanted to. When
grasshoppers were scarce in the fields, he came day after day to his
queer storehouse, till he had eaten every one.
One of the woodpecker family who lives in Mexico stores nuts and acorns
in the stems of plants. These stems are hollow and made in joints like
bamboo. The bird cuts a hole at the upper end of a joint, and stuffs it
full. When he wants his nuts, he cuts a hole at the lower end of the
joint and pulls them out.
I once had a tame blue jay, who was fond of saving what he could not
eat, and putting it safely away. The place he seemed to think most
secure was somewhere about me, and he would come slyly around me as I
sat at work, and try to hide his treasure about my clothes.
When it was a dried currant or bit of bread, I did not care; but when he
came on to my shoulder, and tried to tuck a dead meal worm into my hair
or between my lips, or a piece of raw beef under a ruffle or in my ear,
I had to decline to be used as a storehouse, much to his grief.
He liked to put away other things as well as food. Matches he seemed to
think were made for him to hide. His chosen place for them was between
the breadths of matting on the floor.
Once he found a parlor match, hunted up a good opening, and put it in.
Then he went on, as he always did, to hammer it down so tightly that it
would stay. One of the blows of his hard beak struck the lighting end of
the match, and it went off with a sharp crack. The noise and the flame
which burst out made the bird jump three feet, and scared him nearly out
of his senses.
After that I took care to keep the matches out of the way of a bird so
fond of hiding things.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Cooper's and sharp-shinned hawks, and great horned or hoot owl.
XIV
WHERE HE SLEEPS
MOST birds sleep on their feet.
You know how a canary goes to sleep, all puffed out like a ball, with
his head buried in the feathers of his shoulder. He may stick his bill
over behind the top of the wing, but he never "puts his head under his
wing," as you have heard.
Sometimes he stands straight up on one leg, with the other drawn up out
of sight in his feathers, but more often he sits down on the perch,
still resting on his feet. Most wild birds of the perching kind sleep in
the same way.
It is only lately that we have begun to find out where birds sleep,
because it is dark when they go to bed, and they get up before it is
light enough for us to see them.
The only way to catch them in bed is to go out in the evening, and start
them up after they have gone to sleep. And this is not very kind to the
poor little birds. Some men who are trying to learn about the habits of
birds have tried this way, and so have found out some of their
sleeping-places.
One thing they have learned is that the nest is not often used for a
bed, except for the mother, while she is sitting and keeping her little
ones warm.
Robins and orioles, and others, creep into the thick branches of an
evergreen tree, close up to the trunk. Some crawl under the edge of a
haystack, others into thick vines or thorny bushes. All these are meant
for hiding-places, so that beasts which prowl about at night, and like
to eat birds, will not find them.
Tree sparrows like to sleep in holes in the ground like little caves.
The men who found these cosy little bedrooms think they are places dug
out by field mice, and other small animals, for their own use. And when
they are left, the birds are glad to take them.
When the weather is cold, some birds sleep under the snow. You may think
that would not be very warm, and it is not so warm as a bed in the house
with plenty of blankets. But it is much warmer than a perch in a tree,
with nothing but leaves to keep off the wind.
While the snow is falling, some birds find it as good as blankets for
their use. Grouse, who live on the ground, dive into a snow-bank, and
snuggle down quietly, while the snow falls and covers them all over, and
keeps the cold wind off. Air comes through the snow, so they do not
smother.
Some birds creep into a pile of brush that is covered with snow, and
find under the twigs little places like tents, where the snow has been
kept out by the twigs, and they sleep there, away from the wind and
storm outside.
Water birds find the best sleeping-places on the water, where they float
all night like tiny boats. Some of them leave one foot hanging down and
paddling a little, while they sleep, to keep from being washed to the
shore.
Bob-white and his family sleep in a close circle on the ground, all with
their heads turned outward, so that they can see or hear an enemy,
whichever way he comes.
Hawks and eagles are said to sleep standing, never sitting on the feet
like a canary. Some ducks and geese do even more: they sleep standing on
one foot. Woodpeckers and chimney swifts hang themselves up by their
claws, using their stiff tail for a brace, as if it were a third leg.
Some birds, like the crows, sleep in great flocks. They agree upon a
piece of woods, and all the crows for miles around come there every
night. Sometimes thousands sleep in this one bedroom, called a crow
roost. Robins do the same, after the young are big enough to fly so far.
[Illustration: AMERICAN ROBIN]
Audubon, who has told us so much about birds, once found a hollow tree
which was the sleeping-room of chimney swifts. The noise they made going
out in the morning was like the roar of a great mill-wheel.
He wanted to see the birds asleep. So in the daytime, when they were
away, he had a piece cut out at the foot of the tree, big enough to let
him in, and then put back, so the birds would not notice anything
unusual.
At night, after the swifts were abed, he took a dark lantern and went
in. He turned the light upon them little by little, so as not to startle
them. Then he saw the whole inside of the tree full of birds. They were
hanging by their claws, side by side, as thick as they could hang. He
thought there were as many as twelve thousand in that one bedroom.
XV
HIS TRAVELS
MOST of our birds take two long journeys every year, one in the fall to
the south, and the other in the spring back to the north. These journeys
are called "migrations."
The birds do not go all at once, but in many cases those of a kind who
live near each other collect in a flock and travel together. Each
species or kind has its own time to go.
It might be thought that it is because of the cold that so many birds
move to a warmer climate. But it is not so; they are very well dressed
to endure cold. Their feather suits are so warm that some of our
smallest and weakest birds are able to stay with us, like the chickadee
and the golden-crowned kinglet. It is simply because they cannot get
food in winter, that they have to go.
The fall travel begins soon after the first of July. The bobolink is one
of the first to leave us, though he does not start at once on his long
journey. By that time his little folk are full grown, and can take care
of themselves, and he is getting on his winter suit, or moulting.
Then some morning all the bobolinks in the country are turned out of
their homes in the meadows, by men and horses and mowing-machines, for
at that time the long grass is ready to cut.
Then he begins to think about the wild rice which is getting just right
to eat. Besides, he likes to take his long journey to South America in
an easy way, stopping here and there as he goes. So some morning we miss
his cheerful call, and if we go to the meadow we shall not be able to
see a single bobolink.
There, too, are the swallows, who eat only small flying insects. As the
weather grows cooler, these tiny flies are no longer to be found. So the
swallows begin to flock, as it is called. For a few days they will be
seen on fences and telegraph wires, chattering and making a great noise,
and then some morning they will all be gone.
They spend some time in marshes, and other lonely places, before they at
last set out for the south.
As the days grow shorter and cooler, the warblers go. These are the
bright-colored little fellows, who live mostly in the tops of trees.
Then the orioles and the thrushes and the cuckoos leave us, and most
birds who live on insects.
By the time that November comes in, few of them will be left. Birds who
can live on seeds and winter berries, such as cedar-berries and
partridge-berries, and others, often stay with us,--bluebirds, finches,
and sometimes robins.
Many birds take their journey by night. Think of it! Tiny creatures,
that all summer go to bed at dark, start off some night, when it seems
as if they ought to be asleep, and fly all night in the dark.
When it grows light, they stop in some place where they can feed and
rest. And the next night, or two or three nights later, they go on
again. So they do till they reach their winter home, hundreds or
thousands of miles away.
These night flyers are the timid birds, and those who live in the woods,
and do not like to be seen,--thrushes, wrens, vireos, and others. Birds
with strong wings, who are used to flying hours every day, and bolder
birds, who do not mind being seen, take their journey by daylight.
Most of them stop now and then, a day or two at a time, to feed and
rest. They fly very high, and faster than our railroad trains can go.
In the spring the birds take their second long journey, back to their
last year's home.
How they know their way on these journeys, men have been for many years
trying to find out. They have found that birds travel on regular roads,
or routes, that follow the rivers and the shore of the ocean. They can
see much better than we can, and even in the night they can see water.
One such road, or highway, is over the harbor of New York. When the
statue of Liberty was set up on an island in the harbor a few years ago,
it was put in the birds' path.
Usually they fly too high to mind it; but when there is a rain or fog
they come much lower, and, sad to say, many of them fly against it and
are killed.
We often see strange birds in our city streets and parks, while they are
passing through on their migrations, for they sometimes spend several
days with us.
A sparrow, who was hurt and unable to fly, was picked up one fall and
kept in a house all winter. He was not caged, and he chose for his
headquarters and sleeping-place a vase that stood on a shelf.
He went with the family to the table, and made himself very much at home
there. He picked out what he wanted to eat and drink, and scolded well
if he did not have it.
The thing he liked best was butter, and when he was ready to wipe his
bill after eating, as birds do, he found the coat-sleeve of the master
soft and nice for the purpose. This pleased the bird better than it did
the owner of the sleeve, but he tried in vain to keep the saucy fellow
off. If he forgot for an instant to watch the bird, he would dash up,
wipe off the butter, and fly away out of the reach of everybody.
In the spring the sparrow left the family, and lived out of doors. But,
with the first cold weather of fall, he came back, went to his old vase,
and settled himself for the winter again. This he did for several
years.
XVI
HIS WINTER HOME
NEARLY every bird has two homes, one for winter and one for summer.
We can see why birds leave us and go to a warmer and better place for
the winter; but why they do not stay in that country where there is
always plenty of food, but choose to come back in the spring to their
old home, we do not know.
It may be because they want more room to build nests, and bring up their
little ones. Or it may be that they want to come back because they love
their old home.
Whatever may be the reason, it is well for us that they do so, for if we
had no more birds in the summer than we have in the winter, we should
suffer very much from insects. We could not raise fruit, or vegetables,
or grain, for insects would eat it all. That is one reason we are so
glad that birds come back to us in the spring.
Though so many birds leave us in the fall, they do not all go. A few
come to us who have nested farther north, and some who have been with us
all summer stay over winter too. These last are called "permanent
residents," that is, they stay all the year round.
In the Middle States of the East--New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey,
and Ohio--there are twenty or twenty-five who stay all the year. There
are several hawks and owls and woodpeckers, the crow, bob-white, the
blue jay, and the meadowlark, and, of the little ones, the goldfinch, in
his sober winter coat, his cousin the purple finch, the song sparrow,
the nuthatch, and the chickadee.
Besides these "permanent residents," there are ten or twelve who come
from the north. The funny little saw-whet owl is one, and the snowflake,
who loves to frolic in the snow, is another.
Many of our summer birds stay in the Southern States all winter. Those
who can eat seeds and winter berries--for instance, robins and
bluebirds, catbirds and sparrows--need not go very far south; and some
of them even stay in the State of New York.
Most of our birds who do not eat berries, but must have insects, go
farther, some to Florida or the West Indies, others to Central America,
and a few even into South America,--except the woodpecker, who gets his
insects under the bark of trees.
The summer birds of the Western States nearly all go to Mexico for the
winter.
The little birds who stay with us are only those who can eat seeds, as I
said, or the eggs and insects to be found in the crevices of the bark on
trees. These birds do a great deal of good, for each one destroys
thousands of insects before they have come out of the egg. One small
chickadee will eat several hundred insect eggs in a day.
These little fellows can almost always find their food, for the snow
seldom covers the trunks of the trees; but now and then in the winter we
have an ice storm; then the trunks and branches are buried under ice, so
that the birds suffer, and perhaps will starve to death.
In such a time it will be kind of you who live in the country to put out
food for them. You can give them any table scraps of meat or vegetables,
or bread, chopped fine for their tiny mouths, with corn or grain for
bigger birds.
What they all like best to eat is suet,--which the butcher will give
you,--chopped fine, or, better still, nailed or tied to a branch or a
fence, so that they can pick off morsels for themselves. This will make
them all very happy; but you must see that the English sparrow does not
drive them away, or eat it all himself.
Some persons who live in the country or small towns spread a table every
day through the winter for the birds. Many come for food, and they have
great pleasure in watching them and studying their ways.
One lady I know who is an invalid, and her greatest happiness in the
long cold months, when she cannot go out, is to set her breakfast-table,
and watch the guests who come to it.
She lives in the southern part of Ohio, and she has all winter cardinal
grosbeaks, or redbirds as she calls them, blue jays, tufted titmice, and
others. The cardinals are fine singers, and they sing to her every month
in the year.
XVII
HIS FAMILY AND FRIENDS
MANY people think that as soon as the young birds of a nest are full
grown, and know how to take care of themselves, the family separate, and
have no more to do with each other. Some have even said that the old
birds push the little ones out of the nest to get rid of them.
All this is a great mistake, and any one who has watched them carefully
will say so.
In many cases, when the brood is grown and all have left the nest, the
whole family keep together. One who has eyes sharp to see will find
everywhere little groups of parents with their young. If the old birds
rear more than one brood in a summer, the young ones of the first nest
keep together.
I have often seen little parties of young bluebirds or sparrows going
about after food on the grass, or on the newly cut hay. Now and then one
of the parents would come around as if to see that all was well, and
then leave them alone again. When the second brood is ready to go out,
the whole family often unite in a small flock. In some cases, where they
could be watched, they have been known to stay so all winter. All
through July and August, in the New England and Middle States, one may
see these pretty little family groups.
Some birds who live and nest by themselves, each pair in its own tree,
or bush, or field, come together in larger parties after the young are
grown, in a social way. A few do this only at night, in what are called
roosts, which I spoke of in a former chapter.
Other birds, when nestlings are out, unite in flocks, and stay so all
the time, or through the winter. Our pretty little goldfinch does this.
Most of the birds we see about our homes like to have a tree or bush to
themselves for their nest. But there are many birds that live close
together all the time. Some, you may say, in small villages,--swallows,
for instance. We generally see several swallows flying about together.
They make their nests near each other. The barn swallow chooses the
beams inside the barn, and there are often three or four or more nests
in the same barn.
The eave swallows put their mud cottages in a row, under the eaves
outside the barn. One would think they needed to have numbers on their
doors, to know which was their own.