nest was done and the eggs laid, a storm threw it out of place, and
tipped it over to one side, so that the little mother did not dare trust
it for a cradle. So she built another nest in the same bush, and went to
sitting on that.
One day a bird-lover chanced to see the two nests, one with the bird
sitting, the other tipped partly over and left with the eggs still in
it. To see what the birds would do, he put the fallen nest back in
place, and made it firm, and then went away. The little pair looked at
the nest, and had a great deal of chatter over it. It was their own nest
and their own eggs, but the mother could not sit in two places.
Finally, the singer took his place on the restored nest. After that it
was watched, and the two birds sat on the two nests till all the young
were hatched, and then fed and reared them. When they were ready to fly,
the happy birds had a big family to take care of.
* * * * *
Besides these tiny fellows that we call warblers, there are four bigger
birds classed with the family, who do not look or act like warblers.
They are the golden-crowned thrush or oven-bird, the water-thrush, the
Louisiana water-thrush, and the yellow-breasted chat.
[Illustration: YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT]
The OVEN-BIRD gets his name from the nest, which is shaped like an
old-fashioned oven. It is on the ground in the woods, often on the side
of a little slope. It has a roof over it covered with sticks and leaves
like the ground around it, so that it is hard to see.
If you were to see this bird walking about on the ground, as he does,
you would think him a thrush. He is something the same color, and he has
a speckled breast like a thrush. His mate is dressed in the same way,
and they have a dull yellowish stripe over the crown.
He is the fellow you hear in the woods, calling "Teacher! teacher!
teacher!" He is found all over the United States east of the Rocky
Mountains.
The YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT is perhaps the drollest bird in North America.
He is a beautiful bird, nearly as large as an oriole, olive green above
and brilliant yellow below, and his mate is the same. He is found all
over the country south of the latitude of Massachusetts. In the West and
California, the chat is a little more gray in color, and has a longer
tail. He is called the long-tailed chat, but a chat is the same funny
fellow, wherever he is found.
He reminds one of a clown, he plays so many antics, and makes such queer
sounds, hardly in the least like a song. He will whistle, bark like a
puppy, mew like a cat, or laugh like an old man, all in a loud, strange
voice.
Besides this, the chat is a ventriloquist, that is, can make his voice
appear to come from some place far off, when he is near, and so fool us.
The chat has a way of flying up into the air with wings fluttering and
legs dangling as if they were not well fastened on, and looking as if he
would fall to pieces himself. He does not like to be seen, either. He
prefers to hide in a thick bush, and make all sorts of strange noises to
deceive one.
The one thing a chat hates more than anything else is to have his nest
found. I have known a chat to desert a nest with three lovely eggs in
it, just because it was looked at, though neither nest nor eggs were
touched.
I found that nest myself, and I wanted very much to see how the birds
live and bring up the little ones, so I was careful not to disturb
anything. I hid myself a long way off, where I could see the nest with a
field-glass, and where I thought the birds would not notice me. I sat
there perfectly still for hours, till the eggs had time to get cold, and
I saw another bird carry them off. No doubt they saw me, however, for
they never came back to the nest.
FOOTNOTE:
[9] See Appendix, 8.
XI
THE VIREO FAMILY
(_Vireonidæ_)[10]
THE vireos are a small family, fifty species, found only in America.
They are very quietly dressed in greenish olive hues, with hardly a
bright color among them. They were once called greenlets.
They all live in trees and catch insects, going about over the twigs.
They sing as they go, like the warblers, combining work and play. Some
of them sing almost without stopping, and it gets to be rather tiresome
after a while. One or two of them even sing on the nest, which hardly
another bird does.
The vireos make the prettiest nests. They are swinging baskets, hung
between the forks of a twig, and usually near the end, where they rock
in every breeze. They are not often very high. The birds are easily
tamed by one who is quiet, and careful not to frighten them.
[Illustration: YELLOW-THROATED VIREO AND NEST]
Mr. Torrey found a vireo on her nest, and by gentle ways got her to let
him stroke her. Next day he took some rose leaves with aphides on them,
and holding one of the insects on his finger, he offered it to the bird
on the nest. She took it, and then another and another, till finally she
began to be very eager for them, and he could hardly feed her fast
enough. Then he took a teaspoon full of water up to her, and she drank.
Another gentleman--Mr. Hoffmann--did still more. He coaxed a
YELLOW-THROATED VIREO till she took food out of his lips. Black ants and
cankerworms were the things he fed her. She preferred the ants, and
would scold him a little at first when he offered the worms, though she
took them at last. This bird was so tame she would let a man lift her
off her nest and put her on his shoulder while he looked at the eggs.
She would stay there till he put her back.
The yellow-throat, besides making a pretty hanging basket, covers the
outside with lichens of different colors, green, dark and light, yellow,
and almost black. It is said that these pretty things are put on by the
male while his mate is sitting.
A pair was once watched at their building. The female was lining and
shaping the inside, and her mate working silky-looking strips from
plants into the framework, and then covering the whole with lichens. He
was so happy, he sang as he worked.
The one of this family most widely spread over the country, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, is the WARBLING VIREO. His song is the most
agreeable of the vireo songs, being truly a warble of six or eight
notes, of which one does not get tired. The dress of the Western
warbling vireo is a little paler, but the habits and manners are about
the same as those of his Eastern brother.
Vireos were once common in the shade-trees of our city streets, and are
still in some places where English sparrows have not taken everything,
and boys are not allowed to throw stones or shoot. I know one city in
Massachusetts where trees are very lovely and musical with
yellow-throats.
We can still have these and other birds in our yards--we who do not live
in the middle of a big city--by protecting them from cats and bad boys,
and furnishing good places to nest. Mr. Lloyd Morgan tells of a garden
near his own where there were fifty-three nests, besides swallows'. The
owner planted thick bushes, and some cone-bearing trees. He put
bird-boxes and old flower-pots and other things suitable to build in, in
convenient places in the trees. The birds appreciated all this and came
and stayed with him.
FOOTNOTE:
[10] See Appendix, 9.
XII
THE SHRIKE FAMILY
(_Laniidæ_)[11]
A SHRIKE is a pretty gray bird with white and black trimmings. He is
nearly as large as a robin, and has a bill slightly hooked on the end.
This is to help catch living prey, for he eats mice and other little
mammals, besides grasshoppers, crickets, and sometimes small birds.
This family have a curious habit of sticking dead grasshoppers, or mice,
or other food, on a thorn, to keep till they are wanted. Because of this
habit they have been called butcher-birds.
The LOGGERHEAD SHRIKE, who is perhaps the most widely known, builds a
bulky nest in a tree, and is very attentive to his mate while she is
sitting. She looks exactly like him.
He is a very quiet bird, and three or four or more of them may often be
seen in a little party together, flying and hopping about in a tree, or
on the ground, in the most amiable way. This shrike is a sweet singer,
too. The song is not loud, but very pleasing.
[Illustration: LOGGERHEAD SHRIKE]
A great deal that is not true has been said about this bird. Some people
seem to think he is in the habit of tormenting and killing little birds
for fun, and he is called many hard names. But he does not deserve them.
His way of keeping his food has been spoken of as if it were a crime. He
lives generally on crickets, grasshoppers, meadow mice, and small
snakes, besides cut-worms, cankerworms, and many others. He is extremely
useful to farmers and cultivators on that account.
Sometimes, when other food is scarce, he eats small birds, but they are
by no means his usual food. I have watched a family of shrikes several
times, and always looked very sharply to see if they touched birds. I
have seen them eat many sorts of insects and grubs, and meadow mice, but
never saw one disturb a bird. Other people who have watched them closely
have told that their experience was the same. And writers about birds
who study for themselves, and do not merely repeat what others have
said, generally agree that the bird kills his prey before he impales it.
More than that, the number of birds he kills is very small compared to
the hosts of troublesome insects and small animals he eats.
The conclusion of the Agricultural Department as to the food of shrikes
all over the country is that it consists mainly of grasshoppers, and
that the good they do is much greater than the harm, and therefore they
should be protected.
Mr. Keyser once saw a shrike catch a meadow mouse, and carry it up into
a tree. First he killed it, and then tried to wedge it into a crotch so
that he could eat it. But finally he found the sharp end of a broken
snag, on which he fastened it.
There is no doubt that the shrike impales his prey so that he can pull
it to pieces to eat, for his feet are too small to hold it. I have seen
a shrike throw a dead meadow mouse over a fence wire that had sagged to
the ground, in order to get bits off to eat.
A lady in New Hampshire who had a captive shrike tells in "Bird-Lore"
that he was unable to eat a piece of meat until he could find a place to
fasten it. He hopped around the room, looking for something, till she
guessed what he wanted. Then she brought a kitchen fork with two tines.
The moment he saw it he ran to her, hopped up on her hand, jerked his
meat over the tines, and at once began to eat.
An interesting little action of one of these birds was seen by a
gentleman traveling in Florida last winter. Wishing to have one of the
birds to add to a collection, he shot one (I'm sorry to say). The bird
was not killed, but wounded so that he could not fly. As the man came
near to pick it up, the poor fellow gave a cry of distress, and
fluttered away on his broken wing with great difficulty.
His call for help was heard. Another shrike at once flew down from a
tree, and went to his aid. He flew close around him and under him, in
some way holding him up as he was about to fall. He helped him so well
that the two began to rise in the air, and before the eyes of the
surprised hunter, at last got safely into the top of a tall tree, where
he left them.
If you ever happen to find a shrike nesting, I hope you will watch the
birds for yourself, and see how they act, and not take the word of any
one about them. Then you will really know them. The picture shows a
shrike as I have often seen one, sitting on the top twig of the tree
that holds his nest, watching to see that no harm comes to it.
FOOTNOTE:
[11] See Appendix, 10.
XIII
THE WAXWING FAMILY
(_Ampelidæ_)[12]
THE waxwings are a family of beautiful birds, with elegant pointed
crests, and wonderfully silky plumage. Excepting one species they are in
soft grayish or reddish brown colors, with yellow tips to their tails
and black lines on the head that look like spectacles, and give them a
wise appearance.
Best known is the CEDAR WAXWING, or CEDAR-BIRD. He is a citizen at
large, you may say, for he is known from sea to sea, and from Canada to
Mexico. He nests all over the northern parts, and winters in the
southern parts.
This bird gets his name of cedar-bird from the fact that he is fond of
cedar berries. He is often called cherry-bird also, because he likes
cherries. His name waxwing comes from the little tips like red
sealing-wax which are on some of his wing feathers. In Maine he is
called the bonnet-bird because of his crest, and in some places he is
called silk-tail from his silky plumage. You see he has plenty of names.
Among the strange things about him is that he has almost no voice. The
loudest sound he is known to make is a sort of whistle, so low it is
like a whisper.
The cedar-bird builds a very neat nest in a tree, and feeds his mate
while she is sitting, as well as helps her feed the little folk. The
young cedar-bird is a winsome youngster, gentle in his ways, and pretty
in his soft gray suit and spotted breast.
One day last summer, a man walking down a quiet road was surprised by a
young bird alighting on his shoulder. He walked on home with it, and
when he took it off found it was a baby cedar-bird. No doubt he had
tried to fly too far and got tired.
The family kept the bird a day or two, and then brought him to me. He
was not afraid of anybody, and was perfectly happy so long as some one
would keep him warm between two hands.
It was hard to get him to eat, and there were plenty of his grown-up
relatives about, probably his own family among them. So I thought it
would be safe to put him out. I took him to the woods where I had seen a
little family of young cedar-birds, and placed him on a low tree. He
brightened up at once, and began to call, and flew to another tree.
Fearing that my being there might prevent his mother coming to him, I
left him. When I went out again I could not find him, so I hope he was
safe with his friends.
I was more certain of it, because I know that these birds are kind to
all birds in distress. A lady was once watching a nest of robins when
the parents disappeared, no doubt killed. She was much troubled to know
how she should get at the high nest to feed the young ones who were
calling for their dinner, when she saw a cedar-bird go to them and feed
them.
After that she kept close watch, and saw the cedar-bird feed them every
day, and take care of the nestlings till they could fly. He no doubt
taught them to take care of themselves, but this she could not see, for
they flew away.
The ordinary food of this bird is insects that are found on trees,
especially among fruit. But they have taken to fly-catching also. A
party of them may often be seen busily at work catching flies. This is a
very good thing for them as well as for us. The birds or beasts who can
eat only one sort of food are called "single-food" animals, and they
are growing scarcer every day. They need a change of diet to flourish.
We should be sorry to have cedar-birds become scarce.
Cedar-birds are fond of cherries,--as I said,--but they eat hundreds of
cankerworms to one cherry. So they earn all they have. Besides, if they
can get wild cherries, they prefer them. They have been proved to be
among our most useful birds. In one hundred and fifty-two stomachs that
were examined, only nine had cultivated cherries.
Cedar-birds eat caterpillars and grubs, and are very fond of the
elm-leaf beetle. They have been known to clear the elm-trees of a whole
town, where the trees had been stripped for several years before they
came. Besides insects, they eat the berries of many wild bushes and
trees, such as wild cherry, dogwood, June-berry, elder, and others. They
always prefer wild to cultivated berries.
One spring I saw a little flock of cedar-birds in an orchard full of
blossoming apple-trees. They spent nearly all their time going over the
trees, and working among the blossoms. One who was careless about it
might have thought they were destroying apple buds, for they did eat
many of the white petals of the flowers. But I wanted to be sure, so I
watched carefully with my glass. Then I stayed by that orchard till
October, and I never saw trees so loaded with apples as they were. Many
branches lay on the ground with their weight of fruit, and in the whole
orchard there was but one insect nest. That showed not only that the
cedar-birds had done no harm, but that probably they had destroyed
thousands of insects that would have done harm.
A bird classed with the waxwings is a California bird, the PHAINOPEPLA,
or SHINING CRESTED FLYCATCHER. He is glossy bluish black in color, with
large white spots in the wings, which show only when flying. His mate is
brownish gray. They are rather slim birds, nearly as big as a catbird.
The phainopepla is a beautiful fellow, with an elegant pointed crest,
and plumage shining like satin. He sits up very straight on his perch,
but he is a rather shy bird, and so not much is known about his ways. He
is a real mountain lover, living on mountains, or in cañons, or the
borders of small streams of California, Arizona, and Texas.
As you see by one of his names, he is a flycatcher. Sometimes thirty or
forty of them may be seen in a flock, all engaged in catching flies.
But like the cedar-bird, he is also fond of berries. When berries are
ripe on the pepper-trees, he comes nearer to houses to feast on the
beautiful red clusters.
The song of this bird is said to be fine, and like many other birds, he
sometimes utters a sweet whisper song.
The nest is placed on a branch, not very high up in a tree, and is
often, perhaps always, made of flower stems with the flowers on, with
fine strips of bark, grasses, and plant down.
What is curious, and rare among birds, the male phainopepla insists on
making the nest himself. He generally allows his mate to come and look
on, and greets her with joyous song, but he will not let her touch it
till all is done. Sometimes he even drives her away. When all is ready
for sitting, he lets her take her share of the work, but even then he
appears to sit as much as she. Miss Merriam found a party of these birds
on some pepper-trees, and to her we owe most of what we know of their
habits.
FOOTNOTE:
[12] See Appendix, 11.
XIV
THE SWALLOW FAMILY
(_Hirundinidæ_)[13]
IT is very easy to know this family. They are small birds with long
pointed wings, always sailing around in the air as if they could never
tire. Their beaks are short, but very wide at the head, and the mouth
opens as far back as the eyes. They have small and weak feet, so when
they alight, it is usually on a small twig or telegraph wire, or on the
flat top of a fence or roof.
Swallows wear no gay colors. Nearly all of them look black and white as
they sail about in the air. But when you see them closely, you see they
are glossy dark blue or green, sometimes with changeable colors, but all
dark, on the back.
The BARN SWALLOW has a dull reddish breast, and his back is rich blue,
almost black. He has a deeply forked tail, and a row of white spots on
the shorter tail feathers. When he spreads his tail, it is very
beautiful.
He is called barn swallow because he prefers a barn for a nesting-place.
Up on the beams, close under the roof, the pair build their mud cradle.
It is interesting to see them at work. When they have chosen a place,
they go to some puddle in the road. They stand around it on their tiny
feet, holding their wings straight up like a butterfly's. Then they take
up some of the wet earth in their beaks, and work it around till it is
made into a little pill. With this pill they fly to the place they have
selected, and stick it on to the beam. Then they go back for more. So
they go on, till they have built up the walls of the nest, an inch
thick, and three or four inches high. Sometimes they put layers of fine
grass in, but often they use nothing but mud. Then they line it with
feathers which they pick up in the chicken yard.
Some swallows build a platform beside the nest, where one of the pair
can rest at night; and when the little ones get big enough to fill up
the nest, both parents can sleep there.
When the swallows are flying about low over the grass, looking as if
they were at play, they are really catching tiny insects as they go. And
when they have nestlings to feed, they collect a mouthful which they
make up into a sort of little ball. Then they fly to the nest and feed
it to one of the little ones.
Thus they keep the air clear and free from insects, and they do not a
bit of harm, for they never touch our fruit or vegetables.
Barn swallows are social, and always go in flocks. They sing, too,--a
sweet little song, but not very loud. It is charming to hear them in a
barn when five or six of them sing together. But one may often hear the
little song from a single bird flying over.
They are friendly among themselves, and they like to alight on a roof
and chatter away a long time. In one place where I was staying, they
liked to gather on a piazza roof right under my window. They often woke
me in the morning with their sweet little voices.
One morning the sound was so near, it seemed as if they must be in the
room, and I opened my eyes to see. There on the sill close to the screen
was one of the pretty fellows. He was looking in at the open window, and
evidently keeping watch of me. When I moved a little, he gave the alarm,
and the whole party flew away.
The chatter of barn swallows always seems to me like talk, and men who
study bird ways agree that birds have some sort of language. The
swallows have many different notes. One is a general warning of danger,
but there is another note for a man, another for a cat, and a still
different one when they find something good to eat, which they call the
others to share.
"The variety of bird speech," says a man who has studied birds a long
time, "is very great." And of all bird voices, swallows' are the most
like human speech. If you lie on the hay in the barn very quiet, and
listen to them when they come in and fly about, you will see that this
is true. It seems sometimes as if you could almost make out words.
Swallows more than any other birds like to make use of our buildings for
their own homes. Barn swallows take the beams inside the barns, EAVE
SWALLOWS settle under the eaves outside, and PURPLE MARTINS, the largest
of the family, choose bird-houses which we put up for them.
It is said that purple martins will not stay anywhere that men have not
made houses for them. But I have seen them living in a place not put up
for them, though perhaps they thought it was. It was under a terra-cotta
covering to a cornice on a business block in the middle of a busy city.
The terra-cotta was shaped like a large pipe cut in half, the long way.
This half cylinder was laid on top of the brick cornice, and that made a
little roof, you see. The whole length of that cornice was thus made
into one long room, with a brick floor and terra-cotta roof, and an
entrance at the end. That room must have had a dozen martin nests, for a
flock was all the time sailing about in the air, above the roofs of the
houses.
As these birds eat only flying insects, they cannot stay with us when it
is too cool for insects to fly abroad. So they leave us very early. When
the little ones are out of the nest and can fly well, swallows from all
the country around collect in great flocks, and go to some swamp, or
lonely place where people do not go much. There the young ones are
taught and exercised every day in flying. And some day we shall go out
and find them all gone, not a swallow to be seen. They have started for
their winter home, which is far south, in tropical countries, where
insects never fail; but it is a comfort to think that next summer we
shall have them back with us again.
The swallows I have mentioned, barn swallow, eave swallow, and purple
martin, are found all over our country.
Let me tell you a story that shows the purple martin has a good deal of
sense. One of these birds built in a box under a window, fixed so that
the owner could open it and take out eggs. He took out several, one at a
time, and at last he took out one of the birds.
The mate of the stolen bird went off and in a few days came back with
another mate. The box was too good to give up, so both the birds went to
work to make it safe against the nest robber. They built up a wall of
mud before the too handy back door. The egg thief could not get in
without breaking down the wall, and he was ashamed to do that. So the
birds kept their pleasant home, and reared their family there.
FOOTNOTE:
[13] See Appendix, 12.
XV
THE TANAGER FAMILY
(_Tanagridæ_)[14]