of blue, set off with white and black, and with a fine crest. His mate
is the same. This is the jay we know in the East and South.
[Illustration: BLUE JAY]
He is a noisy bird, full of fun and antics. He makes himself heard
wherever he goes. This has given him the name of being quarrelsome. It
is often said that he is always fighting. But that is a mistake, made
because people do not look closely enough. He is boisterous and jolly,
but he rarely quarrels.
There is one time in his life when he is as still as a mouse. Then he
comes to his tree so quietly that you cannot hear him. That is when
there is a nest to look after.
The nest of a blue jay is usually not very high, in a tree. While his
mate is sitting, he takes the best care of her. He brings food to her,
and often sings to her. This song is very low; one can hardly hear it;
but it is one of the sweetest of bird songs.
No bird is more loving to his little folk than the blue jay, and not one
is more frantic when anything happens to them. James Russell Lowell, the
poet, loved the birds, and has written delightful things about them. He
once found a family of young blue jays who seemed to be in trouble. He
had a ladder brought, and went up to the nest to see if he could help
them. He found that they had got caught in the nest lining, and could
not get away. They were full grown, and the old birds had worked hard
from morning till night to keep them fed.
As soon as Mr. Lowell saw what was the matter, he took out his knife to
cut the strings that held them. At first when he came near, the old
birds were very much frightened. They flew around his head and cried,
and were going to fight him. But jays are wise birds, and in a moment
they saw that he did not mean to hurt them. So they perched close by
him, so near he could put his hand on them. Then they watched him while
he cut the little ones loose. All of them could fly, and they did, at
once.
One of the nestlings had been so tightly held that one leg was withered
and dead, but the next day Mr. Lowell saw him hopping about the garden
path, on one leg, while his parents brought him food, and took great
care of him.
The blue jay, like most birds, is kind to others. One man found a little
flock taking care of an old, blind jay. They fed him, and led him to
water to bathe. They warned him of danger, and in every way looked out
for his comfort as if he were a nestling.
Besides being a singer, this bird is a mimic. He can imitate the songs
of other birds, as well as many other sounds. A lady once had a blue jay
who had fallen from the nest. She brought him up, and he was very tame.
She told me that he learned to sing like a mockingbird, and did it
almost as well. This bird was very fond of her. When she tried to give
him his freedom, he wouldn't have it. If she slipped away from him, he
would sit up in a tree and scream like a lost child. Then, when she came
into his sight, he would fly down to her shoulder and rub his head
against her cheek like a kitten, he was so happy to be back with her.
The blue jay is a useful bird. Dr. Brewer says that one pair of jays
will feed their young in one season five hundred thousand caterpillars;
also that one pair of jays will destroy one million insect eggs in a
winter.
Many hard things have been said about this bird,--for one thing, that he
eats eggs and young birds. You will notice, however, that many who
repeat these stories about him say, "I have not seen the bird do so, but
some one else has." Testimony like this is worth nothing. Such things
are copied from one book to another because it is much easier to take
what is set down in the books than to go out and see for one's self.
Often a story which has no truth in it is said over and over till people
believe it because they have heard it so often.
Believe me, the blue jay is not half so bad as he is painted, and he has
many lovable traits to make up for what he does do.
Mr. Keyser brought up a young blue jay from the nest. He put him for a
while into a cage with two young orioles. Like all young birds, all
three of the youngsters were hungry, and expected everybody to feed
them. So the young jay opened wide his mouth, and waited for something
good to drop into it. He was met by the two orioles with their mouths
wide open. There they stood, face to face, all asking to be fed. It was
a funny sight.
Then the blue jay baby was put into another cage, where were two young
catbirds. To these he was very loving. He would sidle up to them and
caress them, stroking their backs and wings with his bill. He insisted
on sleeping between the two on the perch. He looked very droll with a
small bird on each side of him, all snuggled up together.
After a while the blue jay had a whole cage to himself. Then the other
cages were moved to the front porch, and he was left alone on the back
porch. This did not please him at all; he was lonely. He called and
cried and fretted about till he was placed beside the others. Then he
gave a cry of joy, and really squealed with delight.
The West is richer than the East in jays. There are several in the
Rocky Mountains and California. STELLER'S JAY is said to represent the
Eastern bird I have been telling about. He is different in looks and
larger. He is darker blue, with some sooty brown, and he has a fine
crest. But he is the same noisy, jolly fellow as his cousin on the
Atlantic side of the country.
[Illustration: AMERICAN MAGPIE]
If your home is in the West, beyond the Mississippi River, of course you
know the AMERICAN MAGPIE. He is a large, splendid fellow, who looks
especially fine when he is flying over your head.
The magpie is all in black and white: white below and in shoulder
patches, and black on the breast and above. In the sunlight he shows
purple and blue and green shades over the black. He has a very long
tail, which is wide in the middle and runs down almost to a point at the
end. This is very showy, when he spreads it wide in flying.
In California the magpie shows a curious variation. On one side of the
mountains the magpie has a yellow bill, but the magpie on the other side
has a black one, though in every other way they seem to be the same.
The magpie is a social bird. Even in nesting time he likes plenty of
neighbors. A party of them will settle in a little grove and build
several nests in it. The nests of this bird are the queerest bird homes
you ever saw. They look like big covered baskets. They are half the size
of a bushel basket, and made of sticks outside. There is an opening on
each side for the bird to go in and out. Those I have seen were in the
tops of low trees.
The beautiful tail of the magpie seems to be a great care to him. When
he flies,--as I said,--he spreads it wide and makes a great show with
it. When he is going about on a tree, he jerks and twitches it all the
time. No doubt every jerk means something, if we could only understand.
When on the ground, he holds the precious tail up carefully, so that it
shall not touch the earth. He is a very dignified bird when walking
about in this way, looking for the grubs, grasshoppers, crickets, and
other creatures on which he feeds. But sometimes he has no dignity at
all. He scolds, and screams, and acts like a bad child. He isn't
particular about his food. He will eat almost anything, even scraps from
a kitchen.
Major Bendire tells a comical story of the cunning of some magpies in
getting food away from a dog. The dog carried his bone with some meat on
it to the lawn in front of the major's tent, and lay down to enjoy it,
dog-fashion. In a minute or two, a little party of six magpies came
around, probably hoping to be invited to dinner. The dog did not take
the hint, but went on gnawing.
Then the birds seemed to consider, and after a few minutes they placed
themselves around the dog. One stood right in front of his nose about
two feet away. Another one took his place close to the dog's tail, while
two stood on each side.
When all the birds were ready, the one by the tail gave it a sharp peck.
No dog could stand that insult. The victim forgot his bone, wheeled
around, and dashed after that bird. He did not catch him with the first
grab, and the wily bird fluttered away. He did not go fast enough to
show the dog he could not catch him, but he led him on and kept him
eager to get at him as long as he could.
But what happened to the dog's dinner all this time? Of course you have
guessed that the instant the dog left, the five hungry magpies pounced
upon the bone. They didn't mind eating at the second table. They knew
their time was short, and they made good use of it. I'm afraid they
"gobbled."
When the dog saw that he couldn't catch the magpie, he thought of his
dinner, and came back. The birds stepped one side, and he took his
place again.
Of course the birds were not half satisfied, and besides, one of them
had not had even a taste. So they made ready to play the little trick
again. Now see their fair play with one another! The bird who had coaxed
the dog away had his turn at the head of the table, while another one
did the teasing. They repeated this several times, and each time a
different bird led the dog away.
The major was a trained observer, and he could tell the birds apart. One
had a longer tail, another had a broken feather, and another was
smaller. So he could easily see that each time a different bird had the
best chance. He was sure they had planned the whole thing out.
I once had a chance to study the ways of some magpies. The birds were
busy in their nests, and I was well hidden and quiet, so they did not
see me. I heard much soft, gentle talk from them, and at last a sweet
song. I was much surprised at this, and hoped to know a good deal more
about them, but the next time I called on them, they saw me. Such a row
as they made! They flew around my head, shouting and screaming at me,
till I was glad to get out of the grove. I could not blame the birds,
for magpies are much prized as cage-birds. They readily learn to talk,
and are intelligent and interesting pets, so that the nests are robbed
all the time. Of course they are ready to fight for their little ones.
FOOTNOTE:
[17] See Appendix, 16.
XXIV
THE LARK FAMILY
(_Alaudidæ_)[18]
THERE are a good many kinds of larks in the world, but only one comes to
us, the HORNED LARK, or shore lark. He differs a little in color in the
various places he is found over our broad country, but not enough to
call him another species.
In places where there is a great deal of rain, birds take on a slightly
different shade from their brothers who live in dry places. So there are
several varieties of the horned lark. But dress isn't everything, and,
after all, he is the same bird in habits and manners wherever we find
him in the United States. He is streaked brown on the back, and white
below, with yellow throat and black and white markings.
The way you may always know a PRAIRIE HORNED LARK, of whom I will speak,
is by the pretty little tufts of feathers that stand up on his head
like horns, and the very long nail on his hind toe.
[Illustration: DESERT HORNED LARK]
Another way you may know this bird is that he lives on the ground, and
never perches in a tree. Sometimes he gets up on a fence to sing, but he
likes best to run along the road, or in a field, and he never--never
hops. The place to look for him is a field or pasture, or on a country
road.
When insects are abroad, he eats the more dainty small ones, young
grasshoppers and locusts before they get big and tough, small beetles
and larvæ; and baby larks are fed on them. But he doesn't starve when
they are gone; he is fond of seeds of weeds and grasses.
The nest of the horned lark is on the ground, and the little mother is
very clever in hiding it, and not showing people where it is. Many
birds, you know, will stay on the nest till one almost steps on them,
and then fly up with a great fuss, thus telling their secret. When the
wise little lark sees one coming, she quietly slips off her nest. Then
she crouches to the ground, and creeps away. When she thinks she is far
enough, she rises to her full height, and begins to eat, or to walk
around as if she had nothing on her mind, and there were no such thing
as a nest anywhere about. No matter how long one may stay there
hoping to find the nest, she will not go back, not even to see if it is
safe, so long as any one is near. If all birds were so wily, there would
be fewer nests robbed, and we should have more birds.
The little home so carefully guarded is well made. The bird scratches
out a little hollow and lines it with grass or thistledown, that is, if
she can't get what she likes best. Her choice is for nice soft mullein
leaves, which she pulls to pieces. These, you know, are thick and
smooth, and must make a warm, dry bed for the little larks.
The brave little mother nests so early that she is often caught in a
snowstorm. Nests have been found with the bird on them, when the snow
had to be brushed away to get at her, actually sitting under the snow.
When the young larks can run about, and before they can fly, the father
takes them in charge. Then the mother sits again, and hatches out
another brood.
The horned lark sings on the wing, as does the skylark of Europe that
we've heard so much about. It is supposed that he cannot equal that
famous bird, but so few have heard him, it is hardly safe to say so. I
once heard a horned lark sing. He ran across the road in front of the
carriage, flew to a fence, and gave an exquisite little song. If it had
come down to us while the singer was soaring about over our heads, I
think few bird songs could have excelled it.
The feather tufts which are called horns stand up when the bird is
excited. Usually they lie back nearly flat on the head.
In the picture you can see one of these birds in his usual attitude,
walking.
FOOTNOTE:
[18] See Appendix, 17.
XXV
THE FLYCATCHING FAMILY
(_Tyrannidæ_)[19]
LARKS may be scarce, but we have plenty of flycatchers, and they all
look very much alike. They are mostly in dull colors, and they have a
way of raising the head feathers which gives them a little crest. Then
they have rather thick necks, and they sit up very straight on the
perch.
They catch living flies, as you see by the name, and they have their own
way of doing it. No flycatcher ever scrambles around like a fussy little
warbler, snatching a fly here and there. Far from it! It is a dignified
family, and none of them ever seems to be in a hurry.
The true flycatcher way to get a dinner is to sit still and wait. The
very babies in the nest are patient little fellows. They never make half
the row over their dinner that young robins do. They could give lessons
in table manners to some young folks I have seen. And waiting seems to
be a good way, for nobody is better fed than a flycatcher.
[Illustration: KINGBIRD]
On his perch the waiting bird sits perfectly still, but keeps a sharp
lookout all around him. When a fly or other insect comes near that he
thinks he will like, he dashes out and catches it as it flies. Then he
goes back to his perch and waits for another.
Some of the family have the habit of singing as they wait. The wood
pewee drawls out his sweet "pee-u-ee," the phœbe sings his sharp
"phœ-be" by the hour, and the least flycatcher snaps out his "chebec"
till we are tired of hearing him.
Flycatchers are classed among birds who do not sing, but several of them
do sing,--not loud, like a robin, but low, quiet songs to the mate or
the nestlings.
One of the best known of the flycatchers all over the country is the
KINGBIRD. He is a little smaller than a robin, and all in brownish
black, with white breast. He has also white tips to his tail feathers,
which look very fine when he spreads it out wide in flying.
Among the head feathers of the kingbird is a small spot of orange color.
This is called in the books a "concealed patch" because it is seldom
seen, it is so hidden by the dark feathers.
This bird does much good by eating many insects. It is often said that
he eats bees. But a curious thing has been found out about this habit.
It seems he has a choice in bees. He is fond of the drones which make no
honey, and so are not useful in a hive. He will hunt drones all day, but
he is shy of a honey bee. Do you know why? The bird has not told us, but
we can guess that it is because the honey bee is armed with a sting, and
can make it very uncomfortable for any bird who catches her.
There is another reason too why the bird may prefer the drone. The honey
bee usually flies low, where the flowers are, while the drone isn't
after flowers and flies higher in the air. The kingbird sits higher than
the honey bee flies, and the drones are the ones that come near him.
Another insect that the kingbird is fond of is the robber fly, which
destroys hundreds of honey bees. That should make every bee-keeper his
friend.
These things have been found out in the way I told you, by shooting the
birds to see what they had been eating.
Mr. Bryant, who knows birds well, tells of a bee-keeper in California
who saw a great many kingbirds among his bees. Of course he thought they
were eating them, and he killed one hundred of them. On looking into
their stomachs to see if they had eaten honey bees, he found them filled
with drones. They had been working for him all the time, for every
bee-keeper likes to have drones killed.
It has been said that the kingbird is annoying to other birds, and he is
called a tyrant. I wanted to know if this was true. I did not go to
books to find out, for many people--as I have told you--do not study for
themselves, but repeat what some one else has said. The way I took to
find out was to notice the ways of every kingbird I could see. For many
years I have watched them hours at a time, for weeks together. I spend
every summer among the birds, and almost everywhere I go I find
kingbirds.
In this way I have found out that the kingbird is one of the most
peaceable of birds. He drives strangers away from the tree where his
nest is, and so does every other bird. The crow he seems to consider his
enemy, and often flies after him, but excepting that, I have never seen
a kingbird disturb any bird who was minding his own business. He is not
half so much of a tyrant as the robin or the hummingbird.
The kingbird is quiet and devoted to his family. He seems never to tire
of catching insects. While young ones are in the nest, he may usually
be seen from morning till night, sitting very straight upon a low perch,
looking for flies of many kinds.
Let me tell you a little story of a kingbird which I can assure you is
true, for a gentleman whose word may be relied upon saw it near enough
to be perfectly sure of the facts.
A big bird, he did not notice what kind, was flying off with a nestling
robin in his claws. All at once a kingbird flew at him so fiercely that
he had to drop the young one to defend himself. The youngster could not
fly, and of course began to fall. When the kingbird saw that, he left
the thief and flew under the little bird. He held it up on his back, and
flew carefully to the ground, where it slipped off safely.
When a kingbird has been tamed and kept in a house, he has been found to
be a very knowing fellow. One that I heard of saw that the people were
friendly, and he lost all fear of them. His greatest pleasure seemed to
be to keep warm. He would cuddle up to a lighted lamp, and dearly liked
to crawl under the bedclothes. This pet was quiet and dignified, never a
chatterbox. The only sounds he made were a few low notes like thanks,
when he was fed.
The nest of the kingbird is usually placed in a low tree like the
apple-tree. It is made of anything that comes handy. I have seen one of
white wool where sheep were kept, and one of gray moss on the seashore
where it is found in plenty.
The Western kingbird differs in color from the Eastern. He is more gray,
with under parts bright yellow. He is said to be more social and more
noisy than the sober Eastern bird. But in other respects they are much
alike.
This bird has been called quarrelsome, but persons who look closely at
birds have said that what careless observers have called quarrels are
really play. For the Western kingbird, the ARKANSAS KINGBIRD of the
books, is a rather jolly fellow, says Major Bendire.
All flycatchers are useful and should be carefully protected, says the
same well-informed writer.
The WOOD PEWEE is another common flycatcher. He is not generally seen
about houses like the phœbe, who calls from the peak of the barn. He may
be found in the orchard or the edge of the woods. There he will stand on
a fence or low branch and sing or call by the hour, every few minutes
flying out to catch a passing insect.
This bird is in dark colors, with whitish breast and two white
wing-bars. His common call is a plaintive, long-drawn-out "pee-u-ee"
and sometimes "pee-ay," but he can sing a droll little song. One lady
who watched a wood pewee build her nest heard her sing to herself as she
worked what sounded like "O-wee-wee-wee."
The nest made by this little mother is very pretty. It is most often on
a dead limb where a branch starts out, making a broad foundation. For
this reason the bird is called in the South, the dead-limb bird. The
nests are not all alike. I have seen many closely covered with lichen,
and some made of gray moss so thin that the eggs could be seen through
it. Whatever it is made of, it is low and flat like a saucer, and so
much like the branch it is on that it is not easy to see.
Like other bird mothers, the wood pewee is devoted to her nestlings. She
will shield them from the rain by sitting close on the nest and making
an umbrella of herself. And when the sun comes down very hot on them,
she has been seen to perch on the edge of the nest and spread her wings
to act as a shade for them. It is pretty to see this bird with her
little family when they have left the nest and are being taught to take
care of themselves. She makes many sweet little noises which sound like
talk, or a sort of whispering.
The WESTERN WOOD PEWEE looks like his Eastern brother, but he is a very
different bird. His dress is about the same, and he catches his flies in
pewee fashion, but his voice is not in the least like that we hear on
the Atlantic side of the country.
The Eastern wood pewee has a low, sweet voice, of which one cannot get
tired. But the bird of the West has loud, harsh notes, so dismal in tone
that they are painful to listen to. His song is almost the only really
unpleasant bird song I know.
The nest of this bird is a rather deep cup saddled on to a large limb.
When it is in a cottonwood grove, it is covered with the sticky white
cotton from the trees. It is very pretty when fresh, but it soon gets
soiled, and then it is not nice to look at or to handle.
FOOTNOTE:
[19] See Appendix, 18.
XXVI
THE HUMMING FAMILY
(_Trochilidæ_)[20]
THIS is an American family, and no country in the world can show a more
beautiful one. There are more than four hundred species, and some of
them hardly bigger than a bee. All of these birds have brilliant colors
that are called metallic. That is, they glitter like metal, and they
show different colors when they are turned different ways.
All hummingbirds fly very swiftly. You know how they go,--not straight
like most birds, but darting one way and another so quickly they can
hardly be seen. As they fly, their wings move so fast they look almost
like little clouds, and we hear the low noise we call humming.
Hummingbirds eat nothing but tiny insects, and the honey of flowers,
which they suck up through their long bill. They take their food without
alighting, for they can hold themselves still before a flower, with the
wonderful wings, as long as they choose.
The bill of a hummingbird is much longer than his head. It is something
like a pair of tubes through which he can draw up the sweet juices he
likes. The tongue is long too, and it can be pushed out far beyond the
end of the bill. It looks like a stiff white thread.
We have in the Eastern States but one species, the ruby-throat, but
there are several in California.
No bird is more charming than our common RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD. He
is most often seen flitting about among the flowers. But now and then
one may catch him sitting demurely on a dead twig, dressing his tiny
feathers.
This bird is all in green, with a brilliant ruby-colored throat, which
looks like a gem as he darts about. His mate is in green also, but her
throat is white.
You would not think this pretty midget could be a fighter, but he is.
When a hummingbird finds a vine full of sweet blossoms, or a bed of
bright nasturtiums, or any good place to feed in, he claims the whole of
it for himself. He tries to drive away every other hummingbird who
comes near it. Sometimes two of them will carry on a quarrel over a
honeysuckle vine for days.