go round and round the trunk till he reaches the lowest branch. Then he
flings himself off, and flies to the roots of another tree, and goes up
that in the same way. A brown creeper once came into a house, and found
it so comfortable, and food so plentiful, and people so kind, that he
stayed. He was very tame, and his great pleasure was to climb up a man's
leg or a woman's skirt, exactly as he climbs a tree trunk, going round
and round.
[Illustration: BROWN CREEPER]
Quiet and demure as he looks, this little bird sometimes plays rather
funny pranks. He has been seen to whirl around like a top, and again to
fly up and down close to a tree trunk, apparently just for fun. He has a
sweet little song, which we do not often hear, for his voice is not
strong.
The brown creeper mother takes a droll place for a nest. It is behind
the loose bark of an old tree. She makes a snug little home under the
bark roof, and lines it with feathers, and there she brings up her three
or four little creepers. She is as well protected from sun and rain as
if she had an umbrella, and it is such an odd place that it was not for
a long time known where her cunning little nest was made.
This bird nests in the Eastern States, in northern New York and New
England, and in California he nests in the mountains, but he goes
South in winter. When he wants to hide, he makes use of a clever trick,
which shows that he knows how much he looks like the trunk of a tree. He
simply flattens himself against the bark, and keeps perfectly still.
Then you can hardly see him, though you look right at him. You can see
in the picture how he looks.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] See Appendix, 4.
VI
THE CAVE-DWELLING FAMILY
(_Troglodytidæ_)[6]
FIRST BRANCH
THIS is a family of singers, who dress in plain colors. There is not a
red or blue stripe, and not a yellow or purple feather, among them.
The family has two branches, or subfamilies as the books call them. The
first branch, which gives the name to the family, is made of birds who
are really a sort of cave-dwellers,--the wrens.
Wrens are lively little birds, excitable and afraid of nothing. They are
in plain browns, barred off with another shade of the same color. They
are so near the color of the ground, where they spend most of their
time, that they are not easily seen. They have a way of holding their
tails up, some of them much more than others, by which one may know a
wren wherever he sees it.
The most common one of the family is the HOUSE WREN. He is found all
over the Eastern States. In the Western States the same bird, except in
the shade of his coat, is called the Western House Wren.
The house wren is fond of a snug place for a nest. If a wren box is to
be had, he will take that; but if not, he will seek some cozy nook,
which he will furnish, mostly with fine twigs, and then wait for his
mate to appear.
Sometimes the bird takes queer places to live in. I once found a wren
family inside a hollow iron hitching-post in a city street. The birds
went in through the hole for the hitching-strap. I wondered how the
wrenlings would get out through the long, dark passage. Another nest was
made in an oriole's hanging cradle, after the young orioles had flown.
It was filled up with sticks to make it suitable for baby wrens. One
that I found last summer was in a hole in a gate-post.
The place is usually chosen by the male, who stuffs it full of fine
twigs, and then sings and calls for his mate to come. He will sing hour
after hour his sweet little song, stopping every few minutes to bring
another stick to add to his store.
The wren is a droll fellow about one thing,--he never knows when he has
enough furniture for his house. He will bring twigs and stuff them into
the box or hole, till he can't get another one in. Sometimes even till
his mate can't get in herself. A pair began to build in a shed room, and
apparently set out to fill the whole room with twigs. They brought in so
much stuff that the owner had to stop up the hole they used for a door
and make them go somewhere else. He was willing to share the room with
them, but he couldn't spare the whole.
The house wren is a plucky little fellow, and as he likes the same kind
of places the English sparrow wants, they often quarrel over a box or a
nice snug hole. Small as he is, the wren often succeeds in keeping the
place he wants, and driving the sparrow away.
English sparrows can be kept out of wren houses by making the opening
too small for the bigger bird. An auger hole one inch in diameter will
be large enough for wrens, but too small for sparrows. A sparrow has
sometimes been seen trying to get into one of these wren boxes, and very
droll he looks, when he sticks his head in, and struggles and kicks
violently to push himself in.
I found a pair of house wrens in Colorado one summer. The singer spent
most of his time scrambling about a pile of brush, apparently trying to
make me think that was where he lived. But I was sure he had a mate and
a nest somewhere else, and I kept watch for them.
One day I happened to see a little brown bird fly up under the eaves of
a summer cottage not much bigger than a tent. On looking closely, I
found that there were openings under the eaves. The birds had taken one
of these for a door, and built a nest inside, in the box frame over a
window. After that I looked at them through another window. Everything
went well till the wrenlings left the nest and began to fly around. Then
they seemed to lose their wits, or not to mind their parents. They flew
wildly about in the cottage, bumping against the glass, and seeming not
able to find the door to get out.
I had not the key to open the big door, so I could not help them in
their trouble. And the old birds were so frantic when I looked in at the
window, while they were trying to get their family out, that I went away
and left them. In an hour or two I went back, and found everything
quiet, and the wren babies all out on the trees.
FOOTNOTE:
[6] See Appendix, 5.
VII
THE CAVE-DWELLING FAMILY
SECOND BRANCH
THE second branch of this family is very different from the first; it is
composed of mockingbirds, catbirds, and thrashers. These birds were once
placed with the thrushes, and by habits and manners they seem to belong
there. But, as I told you, families in the bird world are made by
structure,--by the way the bird is made. These birds have scales on the
leg, and some other things like the wrens, so now they belong to the
cave-dwelling family, though they never dwell in caves. They live in
shrubbery and low trees. They are larger than any wren, but they are
like those birds in being good singers and dressed in plain colors.
Wherever they are placed in the books, they are interesting and
delightful birds to know.
The most famous of this branch is the MOCKINGBIRD, found in the Southern
States and California. He is a beautiful and graceful fellow in gray,
with large white patches in his wings.
The nest of the mockingbird is a rather rough affair, built in a low
tree or a bush. One that I saw was in a tree about as high as an
apple-tree. The bird gets his food on the ground, and has a curious
habit of lifting his wings as he is about to attack a beetle.
The mockingbird is a celebrated singer. Many persons think him the
finest in America. He is especially famous for repeating the notes of
other birds; but he can imitate other sounds, such as a policeman's
rattle, a postman's whistle, and almost anything else. Sometimes a caged
one makes mischief by this accomplishment. He has no need to borrow, for
he has a fine song of his own.
Besides being famous in this way, he is a very knowing bird, and a most
interesting one to study. The young mocker is a spirited fellow, who
can't endure to stay in the nest till his wings are strong enough to
bear him. He usually tries to fly too soon, and so comes to the ground.
Coming to the ground is a great misfortune to the bird, for he is easily
caught and put in a cage.
Being fine singers, mockingbirds are often kept in cages. In the late
summer, the bird stores in New York have hundreds of them for sale,
birds so young that they still wear the speckled bibs of baby-days. Many
of them die, and so every year they are growing more rare.
[Illustration: CATBIRD]
A lady wrote me the story of a young mockingbird, whose mother saved it
from a cage. The little fellow was just out of the nest, and could not
fly far, and a young man thought he would catch him and take him to his
sister; but the mother bird wished to save him from such a fate.
When the man went toward the youngster on the ground, the mother flew
down, seized him, lifted him up, and flew away with him. She carried him
a little way and then let go. He flew as far as he could, but soon came
to the ground again. Then the man started for him. Again the anxious
mother flew down and lifted him into the air, and again he flew a little
and fell to the ground. So it went on for some time, till the young man
began to feel ashamed of himself. Then he took up the cage and went
away, leaving the little one to his mother's care.
The mockingbird is one of our most knowing birds, and when one is tamed
and free in a house, he is very amusing. He is as full of fun as a
catbird, and as funny to watch. A true story was told in one of the
papers, of a captive who had some queer tricks. One was hunting in a
workbox for a paper of needles, taking it down to the floor, and working
it open, then suddenly giving it a jerk that sent the needles in a
shower all over the floor.
This bird was once shut up in a room alone, while the family were at
table. He did not like it, for he wanted to be with them; so he amused
himself unwinding all the spools of thread in the workbox. He took one
end of the thread and carried it all about the room, around everything
and over everything--vases on the shelf, pictures on the wall,
chair-legs, sofas, and lamps. Everything in the room was tied together,
so that no one could go in lest something should be thrown down. The
naughty bird was delighted with his mischief. He sat there singing at
the top of his voice. The only way the family could get into the room
was to get scissors and cut their way in. They found empty spools all
over the floor, and hundreds of yards of thread used.
The CATBIRD is dressed in plain slate-color. He is a near relative of
the mockingbird, and better known in the Eastern States. He is also a
fine singer, though he is not so famous. This is partly because he sings
usually from the middle of a thick bush and so is not seen, and partly
because he does not sing so loud. There is a great charm in the
catbird's song.
The catbird is a charming fellow aside from his music. He is as knowing
as the mockingbird, and not much afraid of people. He will come near to
houses to nest, and if not frightened or disturbed, he will be very
familiar.
Like many other birds, the catbird is kind to others in trouble. A pair
had a nest near that of a pair of robins. One day the robins
disappeared--killed, no doubt--and the young in the nest began to cry.
When one of the catbirds came with food for its own nestlings, the robin
babies would cry to be fed too. Pretty soon the catbirds began to feed
them. And at night, when bird babies need to be covered up by the warm
feather-bed of their mother's breast, one of the friendly catbirds
filled her place, and kept them warm all night. So it went on till both
families were grown up and could fly.
One writer says: "All day long the catbird watches over the fruit-trees,
and kills the insects that would destroy them or the fruit. Of course he
takes his share, especially of cherries, but for every one he takes, he
eats thousands of insects. Where there are no small birds, there will be
no fruit." Thirty grasshoppers have been found in one small catbird's
stomach by the Department of Agriculture.
A story showing how much the catbird knows and understands is of one in
Iowa who had a nest in some vines over a porch. A tornado tore the vines
so as to uncover the nest, and the lady of the house feared some one
would disturb it. So she began to draw the vines together around it to
hide it. While she was doing this, one of the old birds came and began
to shriek, and cry, and fly round her head, threatening to dash at her
eyes. The mate came too, and acted in the same way, supposing, no doubt,
that she was doing some harm to their nest. She shielded her head and
finished the work, and went into the house.
The next morning she was sitting on the balcony the other side of the
house. All at once a catbird flew down and perched on the railing within
six feet of her, which no catbird had ever done before. She kept still,
and he began jerking his body and uttering sweet little calls and
twitters, turning his head this side and that, with eyes fixed on her.
He acted exactly as if he were talking to her, and after a while he
broke out with a song, low and very sweet. She sat still, and after the
song he began his twittering again, then sang once more. She had never
heard anything so beautiful, and she was sure that he was trying to
express his thanks to her, and his regrets at the way he had treated her
the day before. At least, that was the way it seemed to her.
A catbird is as full of fun and pranks as a mockingbird. He may
sometimes be seen to do what looks like playing jokes on others. A lady
told me she saw a catbird drive a crow nearly wild by mocking his "caw."
He cawed as well as the crow himself, and the crow was furious, dashing
down at his small tormentor, and in every way showing anger at what no
doubt seemed a great insult.
The THRASHER, or BROWN THRUSH, is also of this family. He is reddish
brown on the back, and heavily spotted on the breast, and he has a long
tail which he jerks about a good deal.
He is known all over the Eastern and Southern States, and his California
brother is almost exactly like him. He is a fine singer, and has been
called the French mockingbird. Sometimes it is hard to tell his song
from the mockingbird's.
The thrasher's nest is usually made in a bush, the thickest and
thorniest that can be found, and the brave little parents will make a
great fight to keep their nestlings from harm. At one time, when a boy
went to carry off some young thrashers, the old birds called together
quite an army of birds to help defend them. There were at least fifty
birds of many kinds, all flying around his head, screaming at him and
trying to pick at his eyes. The boy was ashamed, and put back the little
ones, glad to get away with his eyes safe.
A Western bird, the Arizona thrasher, builds a nest in the middle of a
cactus so full of sharp thorns like fine needles that it is a wonder how
the birds can get into it. They pull off the thorns to make a passage,
but the nestlings do sometimes get caught and die there. They must,
however, be safe from most enemies. One pair that Mr. Palmer tells about
built a regular hallway of sticks six or eight inches long.
All the birds of this family have great individuality; that is, no two
are alike. The better you know birds, the more you will see that they do
not act, or sing, or even look exactly alike. That is one reason why
they are so interesting to study.
VIII
THE DIPPER FAMILY
(_Cinclidæ_)[7]
THERE is only one member of this family in the United States, and that
one lives in the Rocky Mountains and the mountains of California. It is
the AMERICAN DIPPER, or WATER OUZEL.
[Illustration: AMERICAN DIPPER]
The body of the ouzel is about as big as a robin's, but looks much
smaller, because his very short tail gives him a "chunky" look. His
wings are short and rounded, and his plumage is very soft and so thick
that he can go under water without getting wet. He is slate-color all
over, a little paler on the breast, and his mate is exactly like him,
but the young ouzel has all the under feathers tipped with white, and
usually a white throat. Both old and young have shining white eyelids
which show very plainly among their dark feathers.
The dipper is a water lover. The nest is placed close to it,
generally near a waterfall, sometimes even behind a waterfall, where he
has to go through a curtain of falling water to reach it. It is on a
shelf of rock, and shaped like a little hut, with a hole on one side for
a door. It is made of soft green moss, which is kept alive and growing
by constant sprinkling. Sometimes the waterfall itself keeps it wet, but
the birds have been seen to sprinkle it themselves. They do it by diving
into the water, then going to the top of the nest and shaking themselves
violently.
This bird is a curious fellow. His food is the small insects which live
under water, and he is as much at home there as other birds are in the
air. He can walk on the bottom with swift running water over his head,
and he can really fly under water, using his wings as he does in the
air. I have seen him do it.
The water ouzel cares nothing for the cold. On cold mornings when all
other birds sit humped up with feathers puffed out over their feet to
keep warm, he is as jolly and lively as ever. He flies about in the
snow, dives under the ice, and comes out at an airhole, and sings as if
it were summer weather.
Mr. John Muir, who knows so well the Western mountains and the creatures
who live there, has told us most of what we know about this bird. He
says the ouzel sings all winter, and never minds the weather; also that
he never goes far from the stream. If he flies away, he flies close over
the brook, and follows all its windings and never goes "across lots."
When the young ouzel is out of the nest and wants to be fed, he stands
on a rock and "dips," that is, bends his knees and drops, then stands up
straight again. He looks very droll.
Dr. Merriam tells a story which shows how fond the dipper is of water,
especially of a sprinkle, and explains why he always chooses to live by
a waterfall. The doctor was camping out on the bank of a stream where
one of these birds lived, and one morning he threw some water out of a
cup. Instantly the bird flew into the little shower as if he liked it.
To see if he really wanted to get into the water, the doctor threw out
some more. Again the bird flew into it, and as long as he would throw
out water, the ouzel would dash in for his sprinkle.
Besides showing that the water ouzel likes water, this little story
shows another thing,--that birds are not naturally afraid of us. On
far-off islands where men have seldom been, birds do not run away from
people. They have not learned to fear them. They will come up to men,
perch on their shoulders, and ride with them on their boats. I have read
that in Norway, where everybody is kind to birds, they are not at all
afraid. They will come into a barn or a house when the weather is cold,
or they are hungry, and no man or boy thinks of frightening or hurting
them.
Mr. C. Lloyd Morgan has reared many birds by hatching the eggs in an
incubator, so that they cannot be taught by their parents. He says that
the birds of the wildest parents hatched in that way are never afraid of
people who move quietly, or of a cat, or a quiet dog. Any sudden
movement startles a young bird, but they are as much afraid of a dead
leaf blown by the wind as they are of a hawk. It is the suddenness that
alarms them. Some of them stop instantly on a sudden noise, like a
sneeze or a cough. If one foot happens to be raised to step, they will
hold it so, and if the head is one side, it will stay so, exactly as if
they were all turned to stone.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] See Appendix, 6.
IX
THE WAGTAIL FAMILY
(_Motacillidæ_)[8]
IT does not seem very polite to call a family of birds wagtails, just
because they have the habit of jerking their tails as they go about. But
that is the name they go by in the books, and we have two of them in the
United States. We call them pipits or titlarks.
The best known is SPRAGUE'S PIPIT, called the Missouri skylark, or
sometimes the prairie skylark. This bird gets the name of skylark
because he sings while soaring about in the air far over our heads. He
could not sing on a tree if he wanted to, for he lives on the plains
between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains, where are few or
no trees.
[Illustration: SPRAGUE'S PIPIT]
The pipits live on the ground, and walk and run, not hop. As they go,
they bob their heads, and jerk their tails. They are a little larger
than an English sparrow, and they go in flocks. They are never seen in
the woods, but in open pastures or plains, or beside a road.
Sprague's Pipit is all in streaks of brown and gray, and lighter below.
He has a large foot, which shows that he lives on the ground, and a very
long claw on the hind toe.
The nest of the pipit is made by hollowing out a little place in the
ground and lining it with fine grasses. Though on the ground, it is one
of the hardest to find, because it is lightly covered with the dry
grasses, and when the bird is sitting, she matches the grasses so well
that one can hardly see her, even when looking right at her.
The birds eat insects and weed seeds, and go about in flocks. Even then
they are hard to see, because when they are startled they do not flutter
or fly, but crouch or squat at once, and stay perfectly still.
This bird is noted, as I said, for his song. It is said to be as fine as
that of the English skylark of which we hear so much. Perhaps his way of
singing makes it still more interesting. He starts up on wing, flies a
little one way, then the other, all the time going higher and higher. So
he climbs on up, up, up, in a zigzag way, till he is fairly out of
sight, all the time giving a wonderfully sweet song. It is not very
loud, but of such a kind that it is heard when the bird is far out of
sight. When he can no longer be seen, one may still follow him with a
good field-glass. He will sing without stopping for fifteen or twenty
minutes.
Then suddenly he stops, closes his wings, and comes head first towards
the ground. It seems as if he would dash his brains out against the
earth, but just before he touches, he opens his wings and alights like a
feather, almost where he started from. He should be as famous as the
English bird, and will be, no doubt, when he is better known.
One of the things which make bird-study so interesting to us is that
there is so much to be found out about our birds. European birds have
been studied much longer, but we have still many beautiful ones whose
manners and ways of living are almost unknown. These things are left for
you young folk to find out when you are grown up.
FOOTNOTE:
[8] See Appendix, 7.
X
THE WARBLER FAMILY
(_Mniotiltidæ_)[9]
THE gayest, the liveliest, and almost the smallest of our birds are the
warblers. Some of them are not over five inches long from the tip of the
beak to the end of the tail. Almost all wear bright colors, and the pair
are never alike, while the youngsters are different from both.
But few of them warble. Then why are they named so? Well, I haven't
found out; but we must call them warblers because that is their name in
the books. Most of them have funny little songs of a few notes, which
they jerk out every minute as they scramble about on the trees.
We have seventy species of these little birds in the United States, and
every one is working as hard as he can from morning till night, for our
benefit. For every one eats insects, and enormous numbers of them. Some
scramble over trees and pick them out from bud and blossom and under
leaves, others go over the bark, and others fly out like flycatchers.
Some of them work in the tops of tall trees, others work in the
orchards, some in bushes, and some on the ground. But wherever they
live, they are beautiful to look at, and bewitching to study.
Though they are little, they have plenty of spirit. I know of one kept
in a room with several other birds, all bigger than himself. You might
think he would be treated as big boys would treat a little one. But no,
indeed! the tiny fellow made himself ruler of the whole party. He took
the biggest bathing-dish, the best seed-cup, and the most desirable
perch, and drove away any big bird who dared to claim either.
The YELLOW WARBLER, found all over the country, is often called the wild
canary, for, as you see him fly, he appears to be entirely yellow, but
when you get nearer, you will see that on his breast are fine stripes of
reddish brown. His mate is all in yellow-olive color.
They are very sweet little creatures, and make one of the prettiest
nests in America. It is usually in an upright fork of a tree, or bush.
It is made of fine material, among the rest a good deal of a gray silky
stuff which gives it a beautiful look.
This bird is one of the few who will not bring up a cowbird baby. When
the tiny mother finds a cowbird's egg in her nest, she builds another
story on top of the nest, leaving the egg to spoil. Sometimes a cowbird
finds the second nest, and then the warbler adds a third story. Nests
have been found three stories high, with a dried-up cowbird egg in each
of the two lower stories.