to it, and also the sweet-voiced bluebird. The birds of this family are
all rather good sized, and excepting the bluebird show no bright colors.
Nearly all of them have spotted breasts when young, and many of them
keep the spots all their lives. Young robins and bluebirds have spots on
breasts and shoulders, but when they get their grown-up plumage there
are none to be seen.
The thrush family get around by hopping, and do not walk, though some of
them run, as you have seen the robin do on the lawn. Most of them live
in the woods, and feed on the ground, and all of them eat insects.
Because their feeding grounds freeze up in winter, most of these birds
go to a warmer climate, or migrate. They are all good singers, and some
of them among the best in America.
The best known of this family is the robin, AMERICAN ROBIN, to give him
his whole name. He is found all over the United States. In the summer he
lives in the Eastern and Middle States, in the winter he lives in the
Southern States, and he lives all the year round in California.
The California robin is called the Western Robin, and is a little
lighter in color than his Eastern brother; but he is the same jolly
fellow under his feathers, and robin song is about the same from the
Atlantic to the Pacific.
I'm sure you all know how he looks, with black head, slate-colored back
and wings, streaked throat, and dull red or chestnut breast. His mate is
not quite so dark in color.
Robins start for their nesting-place, which is their real home, very
early, almost the first of the birds. They make a nest, not very high,
in a tree or about our houses, with a good deal of mud in it. Not all
nests are alike. Sometimes a bird will show a fancy for a pretty-looking
nest. I have seen one made of the white flowers of life-everlasting. The
stems were woven together for the framework, and the little clusters of
blossoms left outside for ornament.
The young robin just out of the nest is a pretty fellow, with spots all
over his breast and shoulders. He spends most of his time calling for
food, for he is always hungry. He is rather clumsy in getting about, and
often falls to the ground. But if you pick him up and put him on a low
branch out of the reach of cats, he will fly as soon as your hand leaves
him, and generally come to the ground again. So it is of no use to try
to help him that way. The only thing you can do is to keep cats and bad
boys away from him, until he flies up into a tree.
The robin gets his food on the ground, or just under the surface. He
eats many caterpillars and grubs that are harmful to us. One that he
specially likes is the cutworm, which has a bad way of biting off young
plants. In the East he eats many earthworms, which we see him pull out
of the ground on the lawn, but in the West, where there are not so many
earthworms, he picks up insects of various kinds.
All through spring, when insects are hard at work destroying our fruit
and vegetables and young grains, the robin spends almost his whole time
catching them; first for his own eating, but many more when his little
ones get out of the shell, for young birds eat a great amount of food.
Then, when he has spent months in our service killing insects, so that
our fruit and vegetables can grow, do you not think he has earned part
of the cherries he has saved?
Robins are very easily made tame, and, when well treated and not shut up
in a cage, they become fond of people and like to live in our houses. I
know of a robin who was picked up from the ground by a lady. He could
not fly, and she took him into a house and brought him up. He was never
wild or afraid of people, and he never wanted to be free. His mistress
would sometimes put him on her hat, without fastening him in any way,
and go out to walk with him there. He liked his ride, and never thought
of leaving her. She often took him with her into a piece of woods where
she went. He would play around on the ground and in the trees, but the
moment she started for home he flew down, ready to go.
She thought perhaps he would like to be free, and she tried once or
twice to leave him in this pleasant grove, but he always flew to her and
refused to be left. He was so fond of his mistress that when she went
away for a day or two he was very unhappy, hid himself in a closet, and
would not eat till she came back.
This robin, too, liked the food of the family, and did not care for
earthworms. In fact, he could hardly be coaxed to eat one of them,
though he liked some kinds of grubs which he found on the ground. But he
ate them in a different way from his wild brothers. He did not swallow
them whole, but beat them to a jelly before trying to eat.
This pet had a sweet, low song of his own. He never sang like his wild
brothers until his second year, when he had been out and heard them
sing.
A pair of robins that were blown from a nest in a high wind were reared
and kept in a large cage by Mrs. Grinnell in California. The first year
the singer did not sing, but in the second year a wild mockingbird came
to teach him. He would alight on the cage, which hung out of doors, and
sing softly a long time, till the robin began to do the same. When he
could sing, it was more like a mockingbird than like a robin. The mocker
was very fond of his pupil, and used to bring him berries and other wild
dainties.
These robins made a nest of things the mistress gave them, and eggs
began to appear in it. But as soon as one was laid, one of the birds
would jump into the nest and kick and scratch till it was thrown out and
broken. They seemed to think the pretty blue eggs were playthings. When
the weather grew hot, Bobby, the singer, showed his sense by spending
most of his time lying in his bathing-dish, covered with water up to his
ears. He would lie there an hour at a time, too comfortable to get out
even to eat.
[Illustration: HERMIT THRUSH]
Birds who are not brought into the house often become tame when well
treated. One family in Michigan had a pair of robins who nested close to
the house for fourteen years. It was plain that the birds were the same
pair, for they became so friendly that they let any of the family pick
up a nestling, and showed no fear. But with other people they were as
wild as any robins.
One day a man passing by picked up one of the young birds, who was
scrambling about on the ground. At once the parents began loud cries of
distress, and all the robins in the neighborhood came to help. They
scolded and cried, and flew at the thief who wanted to carry off the
baby. One of the family heard the row, and went out and claimed the
robin, and the man gave it up. The moment the little one was in the
hands of a person they knew, the cries ceased. Not only the parents but
the neighbors seemed to understand that the nestling was safe.
The way birds act when brought up by us and not by their parents shows
that young birds are taught many things before they are grown up. When
living in a house, they are not afraid of cats or people, as wild
ones are. They do not usually sing the robin song, nor care for the
robin food, and they do not seem to know how to manage a nest. I could
tell you many things to prove this.
Another charming member of the Thrush Family is the HERMIT THRUSH. He is
a beautiful bird, smaller than the robin. He is reddish brown on the
back, with a white breast spotted with dark brown or black. He has
large, full, dark eyes, which look straight at you.
The hermit thrush spends his winters in the Southern States, and his
summers in the Northern. But in the far West, where are no cold winters,
the hermit does not have to move back and forth. In that part of the
country the bird is the Western Hermit Thrush.
This bird is one of our finest singers, and a very shy bird. His home is
in the woods, and from there we hear his loud, clear song, morning and
evening. Many people think his song is the finest bird-song we have. His
ordinary call as he goes about is a kind of "chuck." The Western hermit
differs hardly at all. He may be a little smaller, but he is the same
delightful singer and lovely character.
The mother hermit makes her nest on the ground, and hides it so well
that it is hard to find,--though I'm afraid snakes, and squirrels, and
other woods creatures who like eggs to eat find it more often than we
do.
Shy as the hermit is, he is an intelligent bird. A mother hermit a few
years ago strayed into the grounds of a gentleman in Massachusetts and
built a nest under a pine-tree. When she was found, she was at first
very much frightened. But the owner of the place was a bird-lover, and
gentle and quiet in his ways, and she got so used to him that she let
him photograph her many times.
A gentleman, Mr. Owen, once captured a young hermit thrush so lately out
of the nest that he could not fly much. He kept him in the house several
weeks, and found out many interesting things about young thrushes. One
thing he discovered was that the bird has his own notions about food. He
ate raw meat and earthworms. But when worms were fed to him that came
from a dirty place, he threw them out of his mouth, wiped his beak, and
showed great disgust. The worms brought from clean garden earth he ate
greedily.
The little captive had his own way of eating a worm. He began by
worrying it awhile, and then swallowed it tail first.
He showed his instinct for sleeping high by being very restless at
night, till let out of his cage. Then he flew to the highest perch he
could find in the room, and roosted for the night.
The bird showed himself friendly and not at all afraid of people. Mr.
Owen got so attached to him that when he let him go in the woods he felt
as if he had parted with a dear friend.
In the picture you see two hermit thrushes. The upper one is singing,
and the lower one looking calmly at you, in the way of these beautiful
birds.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] See Appendix, 1.
III
THE KINGLET AND GNATCATCHER FAMILY
(_Sylviidæ_)[3]
THIS family is small in our country. There are only three members of it
that we are likely to see. But they are most dainty and lovely birds.
They are the two kinglets or little kings, not much bigger than
hummingbirds, and the blue-gray gnatcatcher, about as small. They are
all fond of living in the tops of tall trees, and they generally get
their food and make their pretty nests away out of our reach. So we have
to look sharp to see them. It is easier to hear them, for they are fine
singers.
The RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET is a plump little bird in olive-green feathers.
Below he is yellowish white, and he has two whitish wing bars. On top of
his head is a narrow stripe of bright ruby color. But we see him usually
from below, so that is not often noticed. He flits about the upper
branches, picking out the smallest insects and insect eggs, and eating
them. So he is very useful to us.
[Illustration: RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET]
Although this bird is found all over our country, he does not nest with
us, except sometimes in the mountains. He goes farther north, beyond the
United States. The nests that have been found in the mountains of
Colorado and Montana were partly hanging, and very large for such a tiny
bird. They were made of soft, fine bark strips, and green moss, and hung
to the end of a spruce or pine branch.
But the ruby-crown passes his winters in the Southern States and Mexico,
and when he starts for his nesting-home, he begins to sing. As he goes
north, he stops a few days or a week in a place, and then is the time to
hear his sweet voice. When he sings, you would hardly know him. He
raises the red feathers on top of his head so that they stand up like a
crown, and change his looks very much. In the picture you can see a
little of the ruby stripe.
Not much is known of the habits of these little birds, they are so hard
to study. They are found all over the United States, in the Southern
States and California in winter, and in the Northern States in spring
and fall, when migrating.
The BLUE-GRAY GNATCATCHER is a slim little bird, with a rather long
tail. He is bluish gray, with some white and black on head, wings, and
tail, and he is grayish white below.
He has a sweet song, but it is so low you have to be very near and very
quiet to hear it. He is such a talkative, restless fellow, however, that
you often see him when you might not hear the song.
The gnatcatcher is one of the most lively of birds. He bustles about in
an eager way that shows everybody where to look for the nest. And when
there is no nest, he flits over the tree-tops, catching tiny flying
insects, and uttering a queer call that sounds something like the mew of
a cat. He does not need to be so quiet as birds who build on the ground
or near it, because few can get at the nest. It is too high for snakes
and boys, and on branches too light for squirrels or big birds. So he
can afford to be as chatty as he pleases.
The nest of this bird is one of the prettiest that is made. It is a
little cup, upright on a branch, usually near the end so that it is
tossed by the wind. Miss Merriam found a pair of gnatcatchers in
California, and watched them through many troubles. Their way of
building was by felting. That is, they took fine, soft materials like
plant down, and packed it all closely together by poking with the beak
and prodding it with the feet.
A gnatcatcher's nest is large for the size of the bird. It must be deep
for safety, so that eggs and nestlings will not be thrown out by the
wind. Three times, Miss Merriam thinks, the little family she watched
had to build their nest. Each time it took more than ten days of hard
work.
This pretty little fellow has a long tail, and he keeps it in motion all
the time. He jerks it up or down, or twitches it to one side or the
other; or he flirts it open and shut like a fan, which shows the white
edges and looks very gay.
Dogs and cats, as you know, show how they feel by the way they move the
tail. Birds do the same, some much more than others. If you watch the
way in which they move their tails, you can learn to tell how a bird
feels almost as well as if he could speak to you.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] See Appendix, 2.
IV
THE NUTHATCH AND CHICKADEE FAMILY
(_Paridæ_)[4]
THIS is another family of small birds. The nuthatches are lively,
restless little creatures. You generally see them scrambling over the
trunks of trees, head up or head down, as it happens. They are dressed
in sober colors, and spend their lives picking tiny insects out of the
crevices of the bark.
The WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH is the best known in the East. In California
the slender-billed takes his place, being about the same in dress and
manners. Both of them, East and West, go about calling "quank, quank."
The dress is slate-blue and white, with a white breast, a black cap, and
black on wings and tail.
Nuthatches nest in holes, either deserted woodpecker nests or natural
holes in trees. If such a place is not to be found, the pair will
sometimes dig out a home in a decayed stump for themselves.
It is wonderful to see how easily and quickly a nuthatch will run over
the trunk and large branches of a tree. Woodpeckers usually go upward,
and brace themselves with their stiff tails. If they want to go down,
they back down rather awkwardly. Creepers, who also go over tree trunks,
go up only, and they also use their stiff tails for a brace. But the
nuthatch goes head up, or down, or sideways, and never uses the short,
square tail in the business. He can do this because his claws are very
curving, almost like hooks, and they grasp tight hold of the little
rough places in the bark.
It is a funny sight to see a mother nuthatch going about with four or
five hungry little ones after her, like chickens after a hen, all
calling their droll little "quanks."
The nuthatch gets his name, it is said, from the habit of fixing a nut
into a crack and hammering or "hacking" it till it breaks. In summer,
when insects are to be had, this bird, like many others, eats nothing
else, and he eats thousands of them. But he can live on other food, so
he is not forced to migrate.
To provide for winter, when insects will be gone and snow cover the
seeds, he lays up a store of food. He takes kernels of corn, if he can
get them, or sunflower seeds, or nuts of various kinds. This keeps him
very busy all the fall, and he has often been seen at the work. He will
carry a nut to a tree and find a crack in the bark just big enough to
hold it. He tries one after another till he finds one to fit. Then he
hammers it in till it is secure, and leaves it there. Then in winter the
same bird has been seen, when everything was covered with snow, to dig
the hidden nuts out of their hiding-places and eat them.
Many birds who do not migrate, but live in the same place the year
round, provide for winter in the same way. So do squirrels and other
animals. It is pleasant to think that rough-barked trees, and knotholes,
and hollows, are filled with food for the hungry birds. And if they had
not that supply, they might starve, or be obliged to leave us.
The RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH is a little smaller than the white-breasted,
and has a reddish breast. His home is more toward the north, both East
and West. He nests in Maine and other Northern States. His call note is
different too. It sounds like the squawk of a toy trumpet. His habits
are much like those of his bigger relative.
The nuthatch is fond of his mate, and takes good care of her in nesting
time. He feeds her and the young till they leave the nest.
Mr. Fowler tells a story of an English nuthatch who is almost the same
as one of ours. Some bird-lovers were in the habit of putting nuts on a
window-sill for these birds to carry away. One day, to see what they
would do, somebody put one in a glass tumbler. The birds saw the nut and
tried to get it through the glass, pecking and hammering at it a long
time. Finally, one got tired or discouraged and flew up to a perch over
the tumbler. Then he happened to look down, and saw the nut inside the
glass. Instantly he came down. He alighted on the edge of the tumbler
and held on tightly, while he leaned far over inside, almost standing on
his head, till he picked up the nut and carried it off.
These birds are easily made tame in winter by feeding them every day
when food is hard to get; and at a time when they are forced to live on
seeds and nuts, they greatly enjoy scraps of meat, and most of all,
suet. Many people put out food for the birds every day in winter, in
some safe place where cats cannot come. They have great pleasure in
watching their little guests.
[Illustration: BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEES]
Chickadees, or Titmice, as they are named in the books, belong to
another branch of this Family. There are a good many titmice in the
world, seventy-five kinds or species, but we in America have only
thirteen. Best known in the Eastern and Middle States is the common
chickadee. In California, the mountain chickadee has habits about the
same, and the Southern States have the tufted titmouse.
All these little fellows are pretty birds in gray, set off with black
and white, with lovely soft and fluffy plumage.
The common CHICKADEE and his brother of the West have black on top of
the head and on the throat, and white at the side of the head. They nest
in holes in a tree or stump. If they can find the old home of a
woodpecker, they are glad to get it, but if they cannot find one, they
are able to cut one out for themselves, though it is a hard, long job
for them.
These birds have very large families, sometimes as many as eight or nine
little chickadees in one of those dark nurseries. How so many can live
there it is hard to see. They must be all in a heap.
Everybody knows the common call of the chickadee,--"chick-a-dee-dee;"
but he has a song, too. It is slow, sad-sounding, and of two notes,
almost like the common cry of the phœbe. But you must not think they
have no more than these few notes. They have odd little songs, and they
make queer sounds that seem much like talking. Almost all birds have
many notes and calls and little chatty noises of different sorts,
besides their regular song and the common call note. To hear these, and
learn to know a bird whatever he says, is one of the delights of bird
study. I hope you will some day enjoy it. The Chippewa Indians named the
chickadee "kitch-kitch-ga-ne-shi."
A chickadee is a friendly little fellow. Many times one has come down on
to a man's hand or knee. Mr. Torrey once found a pair making their nest,
and he climbed up on to a branch of the tree, close by where they were
working, so as to watch them. Many birds would have been frightened to
have a man so near, but not the brave little chickadees. They stared at
him a little, but went right on with their building.
These birds, though so tiny, are among the most useful to us, because
they spy out and destroy the insect eggs hidden in crevices of bark, or
under leaves. Bigger birds might not care to pick up such small things,
or their beaks might be too clumsy to get at them.
When you see a chickadee scrambling over a tree, hanging head down with
all sorts of antics, he is no doubt hunting out the eggs. These eggs, if
left, would hatch out into hungry insects, to eat the leaves or fruit,
or to injure and perhaps kill the tree. The nuthatch clears up the trunk
and large limbs, and the chickadee does the same for the small branches
and around the leaves.
It has been found out that one pair of chickadees with their young will
destroy five hundred pests, such as caterpillars, flies, and grubs,
every day. No man could do so much, if he gave his whole time to it.
Besides, he could not go over the whole tree as a bird does, without
doing harm to it. A chickadee hops along the small branches and twigs,
looking under every leaf, sometimes hanging head down to see the under
side, and picks up every insect or egg. Among his dainties are the eggs
of the leaf-rolling caterpillar, the canker-worm, and the apple-tree
moth,--all very troublesome creatures.
The TUFTED TITMOUSE is more common in the South and West than his
cousin, the chickadee, and he is one of the prettiest of the family. He
is dressed in soft gray, with a fine, showy, pointed crest. His ways are
something like the chickadee's, but he is, perhaps, even bolder and
more pert, and he is easily tamed. All his notes are loud and clear, and
he is never for a moment still.
In winter, this bird is found in little flocks of a dozen or more. These
are probably all of one family, the parents and their two broods of the
year. He is one of the birds who stores up food for a time when food is
scarce. In summer, he eats only insects.
The tufted titmouse, like others of his race, has a great deal of
curiosity. I have heard of one who came into a house through an open
window. It was a female titmouse in search of a good place for a nest.
After she had been in all the rooms, and helped herself to whatever she
found that was good to eat, she seemed to decide that it was a land of
plenty and she would stay.
The stranger settled upon a hanging basket as nice to build in. The
family did not disturb her, and she brought in her materials and made
her nest. She had even laid two or three eggs, when the people began to
take too much interest in her affairs, and the bird thought it best to
move to a safer place.
Another of these birds in Ohio, looking about for something nice and
soft to line her nest, pitched upon a gentleman's hair. Unfortunately,
he had need of the hair himself; but the saucy little titmouse didn't
mind that. She alighted on his head, seized a beakful, and then bracing
herself on her stout little legs, she actually jerked out the lock, and
flew away with it. So well did she like it that she came back for more.
The gentleman was a bird-lover, and was pleased to give some of his hair
to such a brave little creature.
FOOTNOTE:
[4] See Appendix, 3.
V
THE CREEPER FAMILY
(_Certhiidæ_)[5]
THIS is a family of birds who creep; that is, they appear not to hop up
a tree trunk like a woodpecker, or walk up like a nuthatch, but they hug
close to the bark with claws and tail, and seem really to creep.
The one member of the family in this country is called the BROWN
CREEPER. He is a little fellow in streaks and stripes of brown, and he
looks so much like the tree trunks that one can hardly see him. He has a
slender, curved bill, just the thing to poke into cracks in the bark,
and pull out the insects and eggs hidden there. His tail feathers are
curious. They have sharp points on the ends, so that he can press them
against the bark, and help support himself.